


I Won't Say

by angeltrap



Category: Death Note
Genre: All the Fluff tags, Christmas Fluff, Consent Issues, Domestic Fluff, Drama & Romance, Dubious Morality, Family Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Power Dynamics, Power Imbalance, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-03
Updated: 2017-03-03
Packaged: 2018-09-28 03:51:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 70,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10070126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angeltrap/pseuds/angeltrap
Summary: Having found out L’s name, Light can finally have everything he wants: the world and, more importantly, L. Convincing L, however, turns out to be more difficult than killing him, especially with a house full of orphans to stir the soup. Christmas fluff balanced by a power struggle between the dynamic duo.Warnings: Slash; consent issues; morally questionable actions and ideals; delightfully AU after the end of Yotsuba Arc. Oh, and fluff. Like, cotton candy all around. Grab your xylitol.Written and originally published on FF net between Jan 2009 and Jan 2012; edited and re-published also on FF net in Jan 2017.





	1. Wondrously Irresponsible

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimers: I do not own Death Note or its characters. This is a piece of fanfiction and I have never and will never make money off it. The title of the story is from a song by the same name, “I Won’t Say (I’m In Love)” by Alan Menken for Disney’s Hercules. Bits of the song are semi-quoted later in the story. The story also employs another Disney song in one of the later chapters, also by Alan Menken: “Belle” from The Beauty and the Beast.

Chapter 1

**Wondrously Irresponsible**

 

\---

 

_“Light-kun, I am one hundred percent sure that you are Kira.”_

_A silence. Only rain filled the air between them._

_Light Yagami smirked. “Well, L Lawliet, I believe you are correct.”_

 

 

\---

 

“L, there’s a message in your inbox.”

 

L bit his lip and didn’t turn, but he glanced at his former Kira suspect from the corner of his eye. Light’s voice was pleasant enough, but there was an unsettling gleam in his eyes, and L had noticed that he now invariably used L rather than Ryuzaki whenever they were alone. To gloat, or to keep reminding L that he’d lost, that Kira now had his real name, the detective wasn’t sure, but it hardly mattered.

 

“It's from Roger,” Light continued, a new, persistent edge to his voice. L flinched as he felt his chain-mate's hands settle gently (but very persuasively) on his shoulders, and attempted to withdraw from the contact, only to find the grip adamant. Light was already utilizing every bit of information he had managed to squeeze – _blackmail –_ out of the shell-shocked detective right after their encounter in the pouring rain.

 

“Later,” L murmured, shrugging slightly to dislodge the offending hands from his shoulders; Light’s fingers dug into the soft material of his shirt, and refused to budge. L felt his mouth twist in an uncharacteristic grimace as he fought his natural instinct to whip around and kick the younger man square in the jaw; he didn’t wish to anger his volatile captor, not just yet.

 

“It's about you celebrating Christmas at Wammy's.”

 

This surprised L enough that he turned and stared at the younger man incredulously. “Light-kun read my e-mail?”

 

Something in Light’s expression shifted as L turned to look at him. Satisfaction, L realized, and cursed himself for allowing the younger man bait him. To his relief, this also meant that Light removed his hands from his narrow shoulders to cross his arms across his chest in a smug display of dominance. “Perhaps,” he replied silkily.

 

“Is Light-kun aware that it is against the law, not to mention terrible manners, to look through another person’s mail?”

 

“Oh?” Light smiled and blinked, the very picture of innocence. “Confining a person for, say, fifty full days and nights, installing cameras in his house without so much as a by-your-leave, and chaining said person to _your_ person is _,_ I suppose, a whole another matter.”

 

L scowled. “Fair enough,” he grudgingly admitted, well aware that his conduct had, as always, teetered on the edge of criminally insane and thus was hardly better than Light’s.

 

Light basked in yet another victory for a minute, allowing L a short, precious moment of silence. All too soon, however, Light was addressing him again.

 

“The message, L,” he reminded the detective, and it sounded almost gentle.

 

L took a deep breath, sincerely regretting ever getting involved in this case. Light had played him, utterly and completely; L had expected death and/or humiliation the moment they returned from the rooftop, but this was almost worse, not knowing what was going to happen.

 

Neither death nor overt humiliation had taken place so far, and L’s last-ditch attempt to make Light back off – his threat that there would be people to step in for him, for Watari, and that there would always be someone after Kira – had backfired magnificently. In his anger, pride, and fear for Watari’s life, he had revealed too much to his enemy, who hadn’t rested until he had managed to provoke, prod and bully the rest of the information out of him. Light now knew there was a man called Roger, who ran an orphanage by the name of Wammy’s House; he knew that the place was a sort of headquarters for L; and he knew there were people L cared about there, because the detective had snapped his mouth shut at that and had refused to divulge any more information no matter how Light had worded his threats. He knew, from the name, that at least some of these people were children, and perhaps, just perhaps that was why the younger man had stopped soon after realizing that L wasn’t going to reveal any more. After all, Kira had never targeted a minor, and L fervently wished that it was because even Kira had a code of some sort.

 

“I will read it later,” L repeated, slightly more forcefully this time, determined to not be pushed around.

 

“Now, L,” Light replied, his voice and smile still pleasant but with a steely glint in his eyes. “Or shall I print it out for you? Surely that would pose an unnecessary security risk.”

 

Slightly alarmed and more than slightly defeated, L logged into his mailbox. How Light had come to possess all six of his passwords was beyond him, considering that even Matt hadn't been able to hack through them... or at least, he hadn't been caught doing so. Smug and victorious, the younger man had graciously told him how he had found out his name, if only to appease the frantic detective and convince him that no one he cared about had been killed or tortured for that information. Shinigami Eyes! All those years spent trying to erase his identity from existence, and there it had been all the time: his name, floating _right above his head._ It was ridiculous. And trust Light Yagami to smooth-talk a ghastly, mummy-like monster (and frankly, L was not quite yet over _that_ either) into simply handing over such valuable information!

 

_Perhaps that’s how he knows my passwords, too_ , L thought venomously to himself as he started to read Roger's message, already knowing what it would say. _Perhaps they are floating over me right now, along with my shoe size and home address and social security number…_

 

Just like he'd thought: he was expected at Wammy's orphanage within a few days, for while there was nothing regular about L's visits to his old home, Christmas had always been an exception to that rule. Roger, who had always been like an uncle to the detective while Watari had played the part of a father figure, said in his typical very polite manner that he was welcome in the most fortunate case that he could possibly afford to take a break from whatever he was currently investigating. He also said that in the _very_ unfortunate case he was unable to attend the yearly celebrations, Mello and Matt had sworn to take the detective's stuffed panda (and, apparently, Near) hostage, and to prevent Roger from sending the packages of English sweets and tea L was accustomed to receiving once a week.

 

This left L in a very tight spot. He wanted to go, of course – not just so his source of English sweets wouldn’t run dry, but because he did miss the kids, too. But Light had made it clear that he wished for them to remain chained for the time being, and the younger man was hardly going to allow him to go unsupervised either way, well aware that a very short time was all L needed to arrange his arrest. As much as they were still chained and Light was officially L's suspect, it was now L imprisoned by his own chains. He had no idea why Light still insisted on keeping up with this charade, but he was reasonably certain that it was merely a phase while the younger man waited for whatever nefarious plan he had devised to fall into place. In the meantime, he was hardly going to let his nemesis out of his eyes, let alone allow him to fly off to the other side of the planet without him.

 

And while it would have been alright, in his opinion, to drag an unsuspecting Kira suspect to Britain to celebrate Christmas with Wammy's Freak Show, Open 24/7, it was a whole another matter to drag a suspicious Kira to the place L called home and where his successors were still growing up. And to let said suspicious Kira drag _him_ there was twice as unthinkable...

 

“I’ll start packing, then,” he suddenly registered Light’s voice saying.

 

Cheerfully.

 

“For what?” L inquired petulantly, but his stomach was already sinking.

 

“Why, we're obviously going to England,” Light stated with a smirk.

 

Damn it.

 

\---

 

“May I have your attention, please?”

 

Eyes turned to look at L, who had turned his chair away from his computer to address his co-workers. Their faces were expectant, apprehensive, excited; not sure what L would say, they expected the worst and hoped for the best.

 

“Gentlemen,” the detective continued slowly, hesitantly, shooting imaginary daggers at the auburn-haired young man sitting next to him. Light had insisted that this had to be his idea, come from his mouth, for the rest of the Task Force to fold. “I have been thinking, and I have reached two conclusions. One, the case is currently at a standstill. There have been no developments over the last few weeks, after Higuchi’s death. Two…” His arms circled his bent legs, hugging them to his chest. “We have all worked very hard for a long time. I believe we have deserved a little…” His eyes flitted to Light and back to his knees. “… break,” he finished grudgingly.

 

_Break_ just was not a part of his vocabulary unless it had the word _cake_ attached to it.

 

The members of the Task Team were making their disbelief apparent as well.

 

“Ryuzaki, that's a wonder –” Matsuda started enthusiastically, but was interrupted by Aizawa.

 

“What an irresponsible thought!” the man yelled, slamming his fists to the coffee table.

 

“... wondrously irresponsible, that's what I was going to say,” Matsuda finished hastily.

 

Chief Yagami was frowning, but seemed more receptive to the idea than his co-worker. ”Ryuzaki, please explain your thoughts to us. I admit that a break would do us all a great deal of good, but I really doubt that Kira will take a break from his crusade just because it's Christmas. I thought we had established that Kira is almost certainly Japanese, so he will be unlikely to celebrate Christmas, anyway.”

 

“Oh, but he will,” Light piped up. “We figured -”

 

“Light, you're in this with him?” Chief Yagami asked in surprise.

 

“I am, Father,” the young man nodded. L glowered at him petulantly and very nearly hissed, ‘ _You’d damn well better!_ ’

 

Taking his cue, Light stood up and moved to stand behind L, commandeering his mouse and proceeding to click away as he explained to the others, “You see, the Second Kira gave us an idea. If we were to send in a video to Sakura TV, just like we did before, and state that Kira will, in the Christmas spirit of mercy and forgiveness, cease to judge criminals for the duration of, say, seven days… seven, of course, to exploit his or her God complex and in reference to the seven-day creation of the world in Genesis…” He opened a file he had created the previous night, and clicked play. Static and the garbled voice of ‘Kira’ filled the room.

 

“ _… for seven days, I shall rest. Celebrate this time of peace with your loved ones, but know that any ill deed done over this time will be punished for at a later time._ ”

 

Seeing that the Task Force still looked less than convinced, Light smiled at them. “Kira views himself – or herself – as a benevolent savior of good people, and wants the world to do so, too,” he said. “They will be forced to keep the promise they haven’t given, because if they don’t, they will lose their face in the world's eyes.”

 

L hummed his agreement, bobbing his head up and down in a nod. The gears in his head were turning wildly, analyzing Light’s speech: was the younger man talking about himself, or just trying to convince his father that the plan would work? Yes, Kira had apparently only intended to kill criminals, until he had felt threatened by the FBI… But a benevolent savior of good people? That was a bit too much for L’s cynical mind to accept.

 

“Oh, that's brilliant!” Matsuda's face lighted up again. “But,” he added in confusion, “if we can stop him from killing for a week or two, then why not send in a tape which we say that Kira will end his judgment for good?”

 

L shook his head, once again wondering how the man had made it so far in the NPA. “Obviously, he – or she – would find a puppet to send in a tape to say that the one we sent was a fake, and that nothing of the sort will happen,” he replied. “But I feel confident that they will not turn down this one, because even though they will know it’s our doing, they will see this as a chance to win more people over. Who knows, perhaps even Kira will appreciate a chance to have short break – after all, he or she must lead an otherwise normal life.”

 

“Can we afford that?” Aizawa asked, still angry but slightly hesitant now. “Shouldn’t we use such a break in murders to… try and catch him without the bodies piling up?”

 

“Fortunately Kira has slowed down considerably as of late, so yes, I believe we can afford to have a break, too,” L nodded. “Additionally, there are quite a few studies that show that breaks have a positive effect on morale and thus will often create results sooner than sleepless nights and long hours.” The remark caused more than a few raised brows and meaningful glances at L’s own disheveled appearance. The detective shrugged, decided to not address the looks, and instead played his best card. “I also believe that you all have families and friends you wish to spend some time with,” he added, knowing that this would be all he needed to say to convince Aizawa, who, unlike anyone else in Task Force, had small kids. Aizawa's expression softened at that, and Light shot a quick glance at L to remind him of the remaining part.

 

“... Myself included,” the detective muttered resignedly, turning his eyes to the floor to avoid seeing the victorious gleam in Light's eyes.

 

Chief Yagami was surprised again, but if L had looked up, he would have seen something akin to fatherly amusement in his eyes. “Ryuzaki, are we to understand that you came up with this plot so you could celebrate Christmas with your family?”

 

“As a matter of fact, Light-kun was the one to 'come up with the plot',” L said, a little snappishly and irritably, avoiding the actual question. He threw one last vengeful thought in Light’s general direction and decided to face the police chief's wrath all the way now that he was at it. “I was going to ask you for a permission to borrow your son for a week, actually.”

 

“Ex... excuse me?”

 

L made sure to radiate murderous aura to his right side, where Light resided. “Yes,” he said, purposefully softening his eyes and allowing a touch of (perfectly genuine) uncertainty show in his voice as his acting skills kicked in, his thumb rising to his lips as though on its own accord. “You see, Yagami-san, I told you the truth when I said that Light-kun is my very first friend. Since – since I know that the Japanese don't celebrate Christmas nearly as much as they do New Year’s Eve, I have asked Light-kun if he'd like to come to England with me, all expenses paid for, and he has agreed. I will, naturally, return him home in time for New Year's celebrations.”

 

_Or as soon as we have landed, preferably_ , he thought wildly to himself, imagining knocking the pompous young man out with a... a... with whatever he could reach at the time, stuffing him into one of their bags, and sending him right back to Japan. Probably _without_ the 'fragile – handle with care' sticker...

 

Chief Yagami looked slightly taken aback, glancing at his son. “Light, have you agreed to go with Ryuzaki?” he inquired.

 

“Yes, Father,” Light admitted, looking for all the world like he was slightly abashed but determined to stand by his best friend anyway. “Christmas is as important in his culture as New Year is in ours. I thought it would be fitting to celebrate Christmas in his home, and New Year’s Eve in mine, since we are best friends – and can't really be separated anyway,” he chuckled, holding up his shackled wrist.

 

Noticing his cue, L gave him a carefully planned apologetic smile. The eyes behind that smile said either “Light-kun is going to die at very young age, probably as the very first victim of a detective-turned-chainsaw-murderer” or “Light-kun is in for a night flight, not a chance at a window seat or any Christmas presents, and babysitting the kids at Wammy's.”

 

“Oh,” Chief Yagami said, considering it for a moment before nodding and smiling in approval. “Well, if that is the case I don't see why I should disagree. It's about time for Light to get to see the world beyond our borders.” There was an uncharacteristic grin on the man's face, and L could almost hear his thoughts: what a good boy Light was, taking poor, socially handicapped Ryuzaki under his wing! How lucky it was that Ryuzaki was also so intelligent – Light had always seemed so miserable without anyone quite smart enough to understand him! How sweet of Light to accompany Ryuzaki to his childhood home, since it was clearly very important for the detective!

 

And, above all: Ryuzaki had to be preparing to free Light of all suspicion! Surely the incredibly secretive man would never take someone he actually believed to be a murderer to his carefully guarded childhood home – this had to mean that the chain would come off any day now!

 

L cringed.

 

Yes, how sweet of him indeed!

 

\---

 

_Silence hung heavily between them. The rain was no longer the only thing that chilled L to the bones._

_“How did you find out?” he whispered._

_Light shrugged. “What makes you think I would tell you?”_

_“Because... you are going to kill me in any case.” It stung to say it, but there was no way he could elude death this time._

_But Light – no, Kira – was shaking his head. Smiling. “No, L Lawliet. On the contrary. I_ will _tell you how I found out your name – and Watari's as well. From now on, I will tell you everything, and you will do the same. Because I am_ not _going to kill you.”_


	2. Forget It!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: A word on my characterization (slightly in repetition of what I said in the previous chapter’s author’s note) – I realize that my characters are somewhat OC. That, I feel, is mostly due to the change of genre: as I’ve moved from thriller to humor and mystery to romance, most characters have gone from Deadly Serious to Deadly Snarky. Most of DN’s main characters are canonically proud, driven and extremely convinced of their own righteousness, and I tried to stay faithful to that, at least to the extent I could. Alas, even so, you will see L having outbursts and Light having actual, not faked, feelings. One of the themes of this story is that despite their god complexes and their clash-of-the-titans war against each other, they’re still both human.
> 
> Also, I’m feeling very conflicted about calling L the “older man”, although that’s obviously what he is in relation to Light. It’s just that so much time has passed since I first wrote this story that I’m now older than L, and his 25 suddenly feels very young to me. :D Oh dear.
> 
> Time for Light’s point of view!

Chapter 2

**Forget it!**

 

“Will you stop being so angry?”

 

L dashed past him with a pile of books, shuttling across the room as far as the chain would allow with Light seated in the middle of it, on the edge of their bed.

 

“I am not angry at Light-kun.”

 

Another dash. This time it left a delicate lavender scent behind, so the clothes on his arms were probably freshly laundered.

 

“So annoyed then. Either way, it's really not like you to be climbing the walls like this...”

 

L stopped mid-dash, glaring at him with all the hostility the usually expressionless and emotionless detective could muster. “Annoyed? This is your fault, Kira-kun! Because of you, I had decided I was not going at all, and because of you, I now have to make all the preparations in just a few hours!”

 

“Watari seemed to be aware that you were going to leave tonight,” Light reminded him mildly. He filed away the information that apparently, now that L knew he was Kira for sure, the detective switched to that name when he was mad at him. The younger man wasn’t sure how to interpret that: did it imply that L viewed them as two different persons? Or was it an attempt to get back at him, an attempt to remind Light that L knew his secret, even though he couldn’t do anything with it?

 

L scowled. “It is impossible to surprise that man.”

 

Indeed, Light had to admit; after winning his father to their side, they had gone to the closest thing to a father that L had. L had asked the man to book them a flight for the next day. The elderly man had merely given them a polite nod and replied, “Your flight departs tonight at 8:30 PM. As a matter of fact, I was starting to worry whether you'd make it.”

 

Light had stared at the man, once again stunned that someone actually knew L so well that he could foresee the eccentric man’s requests and fulfill them even before the detective had thought of them. L, who was more used to this, had just given a weak smile and asked if there was a ticket for Light, too.

 

“Naturally, Ryuzaki,” Watari had answered before excusing himself – to pack what he hadn't already packed for L, or what L wasn't going to pack himself. As it turned out, Watari could have easily stuffed the detective in the car, driven him to the airport, handed him his ticket, fake passport and luggage and herded him to the plane at five minutes’ notice, and L would have still been perfectly set to stay in England for several weeks and miss nothing.

 

“What are you fussing about, anyway? Watari has packed everything for you,” Light asked dryly. He himself had already packed most of what little he had brought to the Tower (though the sudden departure had left him floundering for a moment as well), and his father was on his way to get whatever he was missing from home. Now he was sitting on their bed, looking over his list to make sure he had everything. Everything except for a passport, to be exact – he had never been outside Japan, after all. That was, however, apparently the last thing L would worry about. Watari would get him one, the detective had said offhandedly, flapping his hand in a dismissing manner as if to say that whether or not Light cleared the security was the least of his worries.

 

In fact, the detective was probably hoping that he’d miss the flight, Light mused darkly, and resolved to check the fake passport very carefully as soon as he got it.

 

“Presents, Kira-kun!” L's long, bony arms flailed up in the air. “We are going to an orphanage full of children who consider me a brother or a godfather! I have presents for some of them – but not all, and certainly not a single one wrapped and completely ready.”

 

“We have almost a week before Christmas,” Light tried to assure him, getting up and catching the detective's wrists in his hands. “We can shop there. I don't have presents either, and I'm going as a guest to a new place, so it's extremely important to pick the right kind of presents, right? So take a deep breath, count to ten, whatever, just _calm down_. I have literally never seen you this agitated, and considering that you’ve been under a constant threat of dying since we met, seen people working for you die, and discovered that there are notebooks that can kill, that’s saying a lot.”

 

“I know!” L hissed. “But Kira-kun doesn't know those kids, they will eat me alive if I don't have a present for each of them! Very slowly and possibly with chocolate dressing! And besides,” L muttered, his sudden anger fading just as soon as it had flared, “I had hoped I could buy their presents here in Japan... It's not every year that I have the chance to do that.”

 

They were quiet for a short moment, L breathing in slow and measured breaths through his nose as though to calm himself down, Light fighting a grin that threatened to surface at the confession at the end of L's unexpected flood of words.

 

“You can do that next year,” Light said softly. “After all, you're going to spend most of your time here with me.”

 

L stiffened and seemed to finally take notice of the tan fingers circled around his thin wrists. The detective gave a half-hearted, almost experimental tug to get out of his grip, lowering his gaze and hiding his eyes behind his hair. Light didn’t let go, and L stopped, hesitant, as though weighing the pros and cons of starting a fight over this. They both knew that L could easily break Light’s hold; at the same time, they both knew that if he did so and sufficiently angered Light in the process, the younger man had means to kill either L or Watari.

 

Of course, Light hoped that L knew he wouldn’t murder someone in cold blood for something that insignificant, but he also felt secure in his assumption that L wouldn’t risk his or Watari’s lives for something this small, either. He counted on it, actually, because in the end his hold over L rested on two names that he could just barely fit on the very small piece of Death Note he had hidden in his wrist watch. If he had to play even one of those two cards, he would lose, for whichever card he played, L would be forever lost to him after that. Kira might win, but Light would end up alone again.

 

Slowly, he started to loosen his grip.

 

“Ryuzaki,” came a voice from their door along with a polite knock. “Yagami-san has returned with Yagami-kun's bag. I also have a bag full of presents for you.”

 

L hastily untangled himself from Light's hands, likely completely missing that Light had just been about to let him go, and turned to face the door. “Come in, please,” he replied quietly. Light bit his lip and cursed himself for acting a moment too late; this would have been the perfect opportunity to be lenient to L, to demonstrate that his intentions were not wholly ill.

 

Watari entered the room, followed by Chief Yagami (who seemed to take great amusement in the sight of his respected co-worker so evidently disheveled and bewildered at having to pack up so quickly, as opposed to Light, who looked like he had not only packed everything days ago but had also had the time to catalogue the contents of his luggage, iron his shirt and smooth down his hair), both carrying bags. Watari offered his bag to L, saying, “The wrapped presents are for you, Ryuzaki – and for Light-san. There are cards. The unwrapped ones are for the kids.”

 

L wrinkled his nose. Light firmly told himself that it did not look adorable. L was a grown man, damn it, and grown men were not adorable. “I have to wrap your presents?”

 

“They are from you, Ryuzaki,” the elderly man said, a touch of reproach and more than just a touch of mirth in his voice. “I knew you would have no time to get them anything, but I have heard you mutter things like 'Matt would like this' and 'This looks just like Kyle' for months. I have had plenty of time to purchase all of it for you.”

 

Well, at least this time even L appeared stunned. In fact, he had to be absolutely dumbstruck, because his mouth actually fell open. After closing it, opening it again, and repeating the same once more in a remarkable imitation of a fish on dry land, L finally managed a weak, “Pardon?”

 

Watari graced the young man with a small, soft smile and seemed to fight the urge to lift his hand and ruffle the world's three top detectives' hair affectionately. “You single-handedly picked every single one of the orphans a present, I purchased them, and now I'm giving them to you along with the joy of wrapping them in papers, merely because I know how much you enjoy it.”

 

The last part made a touch of pink settle on L's cheeks – Light watched, fascinated, as the detective lowered his head, muttering something about the cruelty only old men could muster. Apparently wrapping presents wasn't one of L's many talents.

 

“See? I told you it would be alright,” Light smirked, doing what Watari hadn't: ruffling L's already messy hair.

 

“Shut up, Light-kun,” the detective mumbled, peering into the bag to see what he had “gotten” for the kids. The use of Light's own name, however, betrayed to the younger man that he was, for the moment, forgiven.

 

\---

 

The journey to the airport was uneventful (although they had to turn back at first, because L had forgotten his laptop, the one and only thing Watari had left to his care – apparently there was a very good reason for the man to still stick with the eccentric, childlike detective). The battle against bureaucracy was quick and painless, as were Mr Yagami's goodbyes to his son and co-worker. Watari assured them that he would follow them shortly to spend Christmas at home as well, and soon the twosome found themselves shoved through the security check, sans the chain, which they had deemed better to put in their luggage, and they were finally alone.

 

Light was still snickering at the forgotten laptop as they took their carry-on baggage and went to find a café in the terminal to get some coffee and cake for L. “Three best detectives alive,” he chuckled, delighted at L’s blunder and his obvious embarrassment after it. “How are you still alive?”

 

L’s entire body was stiff and his movements were jerky despite the semi-slouch as he walked ahead of Light, avoiding looking him in the face. Light thought he even heard a grumpy little “ _Hmph!_ ”, and it made him grin even wider.

 

“Are you sure you can make it to the UK without Watari?” he asked, mock-worried. “Shall we ask one of the counters for some scotch tape and tape your head to your shoulders so you can’t forget it anywhere on the way? Perhaps write my number on your forehead, so if anyone finds it, they can immediately call me?”

 

L had picked them a café, chosen an isolated table in the corner, and was currently glaring at Light through his bangs. “Perhaps Light-kun is right,” he snapped, “and I should wait for Watari, as my current companion is not possessed of observational skills developed enough to take notice if I should happen to drop my head somewhere.”

 

“The stupid laptop was _your_ responsibility,” Light argued as he took a seat. L dumped his carry-on bag in his lap almost immediately, which really shouldn’t have surprised Light at all.

 

“Light-kun might have said something when he noticed that I did not have it with me upon entering the car!”

 

“It’s your laptop! It’s practically glued to your fingers! I would have been less surprised if you had actually managed to leave your head instead!”

 

There was that ridiculous little _hmph_ again, and L turned his tense back on him and started for the counter. “As though Light-kun cares whether I have a head or not!” he retorted over his shoulder, venomously and quite childishly. “Light-kun would do well to look after my bag while I buy some cake; otherwise I might _forget_ it at the counter.”

 

And because Light actually kind of did care whether L had a head or not, he just shook his head with a smile and called after him, “Bring me a latte, would you? Double, skimmed milk!”

 

He was half-expecting it, but he still had to roll his eyes when L returned with not one but two whole pieces of cheesecake, one tiny espresso with a mountain of sugar slowly turning brown in the middle of it, and not a single latte, skimmed or otherwise.

 

“My _sincerest_ apologies,” was L’s august response to his question, “I appear to have _forgotten_. Light-kun will have to procure his over-priced concoction himself.”

 

Watari had booked them tickets for first class – _figures_ , Light thought dryly, trying to imagine L sitting in his peculiar way in the middle of tourists and regular business men – so they had plenty of space, as it turned out there were no other first class passengers on this particular flight. This meant that L couldn't prevent Light from getting a window seat no matter what he did, because there were just too many available. The detective couldn't possibly occupy them all; in a fit of childishness he tried anyway, and managed to cover three – one with his carry-on bag, one with Light's, and one with his own skinny backside. After a moment’s consideration, he stuck his foot through the gap between the wall and the seat in front of him, leaving his heel on the armrest of the unoccupied seat, effectively preventing Light from taking that one, either. That still left Light with ample room to choose from.

 

The flight passed easily, with L tapping away on his laptop, headphones rebelliously on his ears, and Light staring idly at the movies that they were showing during the flight. Above India Light started to droop, and somewhere above Germany even L's eyes started showing signs of unwillingness to stay open.

 

Light was half asleep when they clambered out of the plane, through the security check, waited for their baggage, and finally dragged themselves into a black car waiting for them outside. L woke up several times from his daze when he banged his head against the window, and once when Light's head fell against his shoulder.

 

It was a very early morning – or a very late night – when they finally reached their destination. L half dragged, half carried Light to the house and up the stairs; feeling his way through the dark corridors, going straight to the familiar room to which he still knew the way by heart, even when practically sleepwalking. Drawing back the covers, L flopped the younger man carelessly on the bed, removed his shoes, stuffed his feet roughly under the blankets, and crawled next to him with his brilliant mind completely blank, for once. Light had fallen back to sleep the moment his body had touched the mattress, and L followed him to the Dreamland in the middle of pulling the blankets over their bodies. _Out like a light_ , was his last coherent thought, and it was a sign of how tired he was that he actually found the pun a little funny.

 

\---

 

At some point, later that night, Light thought he could hear hushed voices discussing next to him.

 

“Is it him? Can you see?”

 

“I don't know, he's completely under the blanket, I can't see his face...”

 

“Well, lift the blanket, idiot!”

 

“Why would it be anyone else? Who else would sleep in L's bed?”

 

“ _Someone_ does...” And Light felt little fingers prodding him.

 

“Shut up, Near! And quit poking the Unknown Sleeping Object, Matt, and make sure that's L!”

 

“ _You_ do that, Mels, I wanna live to die of lung cancer.”

 

“That's sick -”

 

The warm body next to Light's moved slightly and slurred, “... You have started smoking, Matt?”

 

Three gasps. “It is him!” said one.

 

“It's L!” said the other.

 

“No I haven't!” denied the third.

 

“L, we missed you!” Light groaned as the mattress dipped and something hit his side.

 

“Yeah, we were afraid that you wouldn't come home this Christmas! Roger said you hadn't answered him even though Matt and I _blackmailed_ you -”

 

“That's right! And our threat wasn't empty, know that! We did kidnap your Panda – but it was so cute we had to set it free, it kept staring at us with those accusing eyes -”

 

“Right, and so we kidnapped Near instead like we said we would -”

 

“You did? I didn't know I was being held hostage. You should have told me, I would have devised a genius plan to contact L and escape.”

 

“Shut up, Near! But anyways, because you came, we're returning Near to you, like we promised, and we decided to come along -”

 

“Yeah, because we couldn't hold ourselves hostage, but we know you like us too so it would have been a good way to blackmail you, so we're now returning ourselves as well -”

 

“...I don't think he's listening...”

 

L's body stirred again, like he had woken up for the second time. “Yes I am... I was not asleep... at all! What were we talking about?”

 

“... You were asleep.”

 

“I'm tired,” L whined. “You know how I hate flying... Let me sleep, for once. I will hear everything about your conspiracies tomorrow...”

 

“... You mean later today...”

 

“L, can we please sleep here too? Please?”

 

“You're doing it wrong! L, I'm blackmailing you to let us sleep here! Otherwise we'll babble on until you're fully awake -”

 

“... I think he fell asleep again, Mello.”

 

“Damn it! That USO guy must have given him sleeping pills...”

 

“Well, he didn't say no. That must mean we can stay.”

 

Light let out a long groan from the bottom of his heart and drew the blankets over his head as he felt the annoying voices – well, their bodies, more likely – clamber to the bed, crawl under the blankets and drape themselves snugly around L, casually kicking him out of the way. Finally they settled down and apparently fell asleep; Light pondered about it for a moment, then dismissed them as crazy nightmares and went back to sleep.


	3. Enter the Nightmares

Chapter 3

**Enter the Nightmares**

 

When Light woke up, L was already awake.

 

The three crazy nightmares clinging to him weren't.

 

Light sat up and stretched his arms; from the soft, pale winter light flooding through the windows he figured it was around noon. He heard a happy sigh and a faint grumble from next to him and turned his eyes downwards. He couldn't help but both raise a brow and chuckle at the sight.

 

L was lying flat on his back, pinned to the bed by three smaller bodies. There was a tiny boy with startling white hair curled up between the detective and Light – so this had to be the one who had so ruthlessly kicked him aside last night, Light thought sourly. The boy was clad in pale blue pajamas; his head was resting on L's left shoulder, one hand clutching the man's shirt and the other cradling a toy robot against his own chest.

 

A taller boy – not that much shorter than Light and L, it seemed, but caught in that awkward phase where he was all elbows and knees – was sprawled across L's chest, his blond head resting on the right shoulder, skinny arms clad in black satin wrapped around the detective's ribs. The left arm had, however, missed L, and was wrapped around the redhead next to him instead.

 

Crazy Nightmare Number 3 had apparently crawled into the bed after his two companions had taken the best places, and had merely lain down on top of the raven-haired man's outstretched arm, back against his side, and then wrapped the arm around himself.

 

L himself was eying the ceiling with a thoughtful look in his charcoal eyes, right arm firmly keeping the redhead from falling off the bed, left hand's fingers playing with the smallest boy's white hair, thin chest raising and falling steadily despite the extra hundred pounds on top of it. As Light watched them, L's eyes moved to him, and a distant relative of a smile flickered across his face.

 

“Morning, Light-kun.”

 

“Morning, L,” Light replied quietly, cocking his head and grinning a bit. “I'm jealous.”

 

L lifted his brows – or at least Light supposed he did, since he couldn't see them from beneath the raven black mop of hair. “Of me or of the attention?” he asked with uncharacteristic playfulness.

 

Light laughed a little, secretly delighted that L hadn't shunned him away like he had done all the time since Light had revealed his identity as Kira. He knew that L was still waiting for the other shoe to drop, for this arrangement between them to come to an end. In fact, L was likely wondering if his Christmas here was to be his last meal, figuratively speaking, despite Light’s promise that he wouldn’t kill the man. That Light truly and honestly wished to build a more lasting companionship with him had not yet crossed his mind. Even so, it was refreshing and more than a little encouraging that the detective felt secure enough to joke with him.

 

“Both,” he drawled, glancing at the blond again. The boy appeared to be the eldest of the three, and he _was_ draped all over his L in a rather dubious manner... “Seriously, though. _Should_ I be jealous?”

 

L's amused expression vanished, and he opened his mouth as if to ask, “Does Light-kun think he has something to be jealous of?”, but decided against it. In the end, he seemed to conclude that clearing things out was the safest way to go.

 

“I assure you, there is no need for jealousy, though these three have a hard time understanding it,” the detective said carefully. “These are my... well, I like to call them my brothers, though we are not related by blood or even adoption. And though Light-kun has absolutely no reason to be jealous, I must warn him that my brothers may think _they_ do.”

 

“How so?”

 

L seemed to consider his reply for a moment, a hesitant frown upon his face. “I'm afraid that's classified information -” he started.

 

“L,” Light furrowed his brow at the detective. “I thought we agreed that the times of lying and secrecy were over. We can never make this work if we keep secrets from each other.”

 

He didn’t define what _this_ was in more detail. The truth was that, in all his elegance and cleverness, he had no idea how to articulate to L what he wanted from the man, and so he could hardly blame L for not trusting him. Frankly, he was still trying to work things out himself. His plan had worked out flawlessly, delivering all the ingredients he needed for his victory – the Death Note, his memories, and L’s name – to him just as intended, and yet he found himself flailing, trying to work in the changes, the… feelings… that had occurred, formed, during his memory loss. Hastily patched, his new plan was hardly seamless, but L didn’t and couldn’t know that.

 

The detective would be convinced that this was all an elaborate plan to root out everyone who might come after Light if L died, Light realized. That much was also evident in the way L averted his eyes, hiding his face in the blond boy's hair, clutching the three boys protectively a bit closer. “Light-kun is talking about an equal relationship,” he muttered sullenly.

 

“I'm talking about our relationship,” Light disagreed, frustration coloring his lowered voice. He didn't want to accidentally raise his voice and wake up the kids, and he could understand L’s sudden protectiveness, but it angered him all the same. Surely L couldn’t think that the children’s lives would be in any real danger from him!

 

“Which is not equal,” L hissed back. Before Light could snap back at him, he hurriedly replied to his earlier question, “They are not only my brothers, they are also my successors. Every child in this orphanage is extraordinarily gifted and clever, and these three are the most gifted, the cleverest of all. One of these three will become L one day.”

 

Light fell silent, blinking and glancing at the three kids again.

 

“Naturally, they are always competing at everything. And me being… who I am, I have not exactly been the most devoted brother... I travel a lot, and cases take most of my time. As a big brother, Light-kun probably understands that because of this, they are rather jealous of my time and attention -”

 

And it was at this delicate moment when L was beginning to show the first signs of the trust he didn't truly feel, was tentatively reaching out and testing if the fragile truce with Light would hold, that the blond boy lying on top of him decided to make his state of consciousness known. Or rather, the state of the world's best detective's waist.

 

“L, you've got to lay off the sweets,” he grumbled, nuzzling his nose very casually against L's shirt. “My arms can't reach around your fat tummy anymore.”

 

“It's not the sweets, Mello,” the redheaded boy disagreed faintly before the bewildered detectives could respond in any way. “It's me.”

 

“Really?” Mello sounded slightly taken aback, but he was still talking into L's shirt so they couldn't see his face. “I must say, I would have never guessed Matt was sweet enough for your taste, L... Well, you've got to lay off the redheads too, then. And maybe start jogging... I could be your personal trainer.”

 

“No, I meant that your arms are around me as well,” Matt clarified, because apparently that was necessary.

 

A silence. “No, they're not.” Mello sounded like he was fairly certain that he was being lied to, but not sure enough to risk a look. “It's all in your head, Matt. And if the rest of your fantasies are anything like this one, I'd rather not hear them...”

 

The conversation was taking a turn Light wasn’t quite ready to follow this early in the morning, so he cleared his throat, assuming a slightly amused expression to give a (hopefully) brotherly, friendly impression. “I hope I'm not included in that order to lay off the redheads?” he asked, flicking his auburn hair from his eyes.

 

“That's yet to be decided.” This time it was the white-haired boy who opened his mouth. Light glanced down at the kid and froze as he saw a pair of familiar black charcoal eyes staring back at him. What were the odds of someone not biologically related to L having such strikingly similar eyes? “We still need to analyze the discussion we heard while pretending to be asleep and determine whether or not your absence would have a positive effect on our brother.”

 

“It just might,” L quipped, again with the unusual playfulness, but there was a tad bit too much hope lurking behind the humor for Light's liking. The younger man glowered at his reluctant boyfriend (who, he reminded himself guiltily, was not yet actually aware of his new status) for a moment before returning his attention to the three younger boys.

 

Mello had sat up, carefully sliding his left arm from around Matt's waist before turning to look that way. “I _said_ it was all in your head,” he sneered at his redheaded friend before aiming his sneer at Light. “Now listen up, Unknown Ex-Sleeping, Now Awakened Object – you have, in the presence of these witnesses, been found in our brother's bed, and are therefore guilty of attempting to be a part of L's life, a clear offence against the Fifth Commandment of _The First Book of Mello_. The punishment for this terrifying crime is constant surveillance and suspicion. The sentence will take effect immediately and will be executed by the members of Order of L present.”

 

Light blinked once, twice, and then some more while his brain struggled to process Mello's speech. L looked vaguely amused. “Well, uh – _firstly_ , Blondie, I have suffered from constant surveillance and suspicion by L himself prematurely for a long time -”

 

“Doesn't count. L's not a member of the Order.”

 

“He's not – he's not a member of his own Order?”

 

L's expressionless expression turned into a rather sulky one at that. “They demanded impossible things,” he complained.

 

“Chocolate,” Matt revealed as he saw Light's curious expression. “Chairman Mello decided that the fee to join was one chocolate bar. L couldn't bear the idea of parting with his sweets, so he was banned from the club for life. Mello can be a real bitch when it comes to holding a grudge.”

 

“Language, Matt,” L interjected mildly.

 

Light was slowly beginning to understand that he had shoved his spoon into a very unusual soup, indeed. “I... see,” he said, and didn't know if he should be afraid, amused or just smug that L had always seemed more than willing to share his sweets with him. “In any case... _The First Book of Mello_?”

 

Mello shrugged. “It's a holy book. Full of wise and useful stuff. Should be in the Bible, too.”

 

“Prophet Mello sounds like a scary thought to me,” the white-haired boy murmured, and Light realized he still didn't know the boy's name.

 

“Mello the disciple of a self-proclaimed Messiah sounds a bit more realistic,” Matt chuckled, glancing first at Mello and then at L.

 

“I beg to differ,” L denied. “I am not the one with a god complex here.” The statement was followed by a pregnant pause, during which L received four skeptical glances (and Light three confused ones). “Alright, at least I am not the only one,” the raven-haired man admitted finally.

 

“The first book?” Light asked Mello to prevent the Ls-to-be from questioning _his_ god complex status. “Are there more?”

 

Mello grinned. “Haven't written the second one yet, but it has a very good chance to get the parental advisory sticker.”

 

Matt got up, stretching and yawning. “So in all brutal honesty, you're going to write porn.”

 

“Who, me?” Mello asked, the very picture of innocence. “I only write about things that are important in my life.”

 

“Porn isn't?”

 

“Not anymore, Roger burned the magazines. I'll need to get my material from real life, apparently...”

 

Little Snow White made his toy robot shoot a missile at Mello. “I'm 96,4 per cent certain that Mello should have a parental advisory sticker on him. And before anyone asks if I have made sure he doesn't – no, I haven't, but it should definitely be on a very visible place.”

 

“Why, Near, if it weren't coming from you, I could almost take that as a compliment!” Mello exclaimed.

 

“May I remind you that none of us has had any kind of parental _anything_?” Matt asked dryly.

 

Light turned to look at L, who was inadvertently untangling the knots in Near’s white, curly hair with his spindly fingers, a look of half-amused indifference on his face. “L,” Light said quietly, trying not to disturb the threesome's bantering. “You're not exactly the sanest person I've ever met, but after seeing three other examples produced by the same environment, I just have to ask... how come you're not any _more_ off the wall?”

 

L graced him with a rare genuine-ish smile. “I started meddling with serial killers, psychopaths and megalomaniac criminal masterminds at a very young age. That must have saved my sanity.”

 

\---

 

For someone who had been chained to another person for four and half months, it took amazingly long from Light to realize that the constant jingling was absent.

 

“L, the chain,” he suddenly exclaimed when they were fully dressed, he had spent a good thirty minutes trying to make himself look presentable after the night flight (and fifteen minutes attempting to tidy up L's appearance as well, ten of which were wasted on L dodging his attempts), and L was just about to step out of the room.

 

L froze with his hand extended towards the doorknob. Mello, Matt and Near turned to look at Light, and Light could have sworn their eyes were gleaming with mischief as they asked in unison, “The chain?”

 

“I know you packed it,” Light continued, frowning at the detective's tense back.

 

Without warning, L whipped around and flashed a blinding, dazzling, incredibly un-L-ish smile at him. “Oh Light-kun, I'm sure it's not necessary!” he chirped, and any lesser man would have been floored by either the sheer overwhelming charm L was currently exuding or by the complete surprise at such an unexpected move. Mello, Matt and Near appeared positively dumbstruck – or Mello and Matt did, Near looked merely a bit more interested than before.

 

Light was, however, not that easily swayed. Bracing himself, he crossed his arms across his chest and frowned a bit more imperiously. “I'm afraid I have to disagree,” he said. “Watari is arriving in two days. What are you going to tell him if we're not chained together?”

 

“Chained together?” Mello and Matt echoed, and their devilish grins stretched from ear to ear.

 

“ _Watari_ had you chained together?” Near added, his eyebrows hiking further into the pale mess of his bangs.

 

L was glaring at Light, but didn't respond. Light had to fight the urge to smirk, knowing that L would have to agree, because if Watari found out they had gone without the chain any longer than necessary for the flight, the elderly man would start asking questions, because Light was supposed be under constant surveillance.

 

“ _I'm willing to let you live – no, I_ want _you to live – but understand that if you so much as_ attempt _to reveal my identity to anyone, the consequences will be… uncomfortable_ ,” had been the one of the very first things Light had said to the detective after admitting to being Kira.

 

L wasn't a fool; he wouldn't endanger his life – or worse, Watari's – for something this stupid, and Light counted on that, fully aware that if L forced him to play his hand and kill the elderly man as a punishment, all his plans would fall through; his relationship with L would never recover. He _could_ control both L and Watari by threatening them both – surely neither would do anything to endanger the other – but since his goal was to convince L to join him as his companion and eventually officially free Light of suspicion and even close the Kira case, he didn’t want to turn either of them against himself. Thus it was important for Watari to not realize that the balance of power between them had shifted so drastically.

 

The chain presented a problem, though, and that was why L had tried to slink off without putting it back on. If Mello, Matt and Near were, as L said, the top three candidates to become the next L, they had to be very clever. If they were to find out that Light had been chained to L as his Kira suspect, they would eventually reach the same conclusion as L had, that Light was, without a shade of doubt, Kira – and that would make them as much of a threat as L, and as much of an unwitting hostage as Watari. L wanted to make sure that Light would never have any reason to ask Rem for _their_ real names.

 

“Fine,” the detective grumbled, however, currently more alarmed at the prospect of bringing Watari to harm, slouching to his luggage and digging out the infamous Chain of Doom, evidently deciding that it would be easier to explain the chain to the three teenagers than it would be to explain the lack of it to the elderly man. Light extended his arm smugly, and L snapped the cuff to his wrist. For a moment, it seemed like he considered attaching the other end to the bedpost and making a run for it, but then he sulkily locked the other cuff around his own wrist.

 

Mello, Matt and Near followed the ritual with wide eyes. Well, Near's eyes were always quite wide, but they were marginally more curious, now.

 

“There,” L said sullenly. “Can we go now?”

 

Light nodded, and they left the room, closing the door behind them. As they descended the narrow, squeaky stairs, Light started to wonder how they had ended up in the third floor – which had apparently originally been an attic – in the first place. His last memory before waking up in the bed was from the airport...

 

“Did you carry me up here?” he blurted out, thoroughly amazed that the skinny man could do that.

 

“Dragged, really”, Mello drawled. “Swept the dust from the floor as he went...”

 

“You were watching?” L asked as Light worriedly turned to look at his socks and pant legs to make sure they were clean. The house looked pretty tidy, but if this was where L had learned his non-existent cleaning habits...

 

Matt shrugged. “Sure. Roger refused to tell us what time you were going to arrive, so we had to stay awake to ensure we'd be the first to see you.”

 

“Hm? Why did you have to be the first?” Light forgot his socks and turned to look at the three teenagers just as they reached the first floor and L reached for the handle of the door to what Light presumed was a living-room.

 

“I told you,” L said, gripping the handle and glancing at Light over his shoulder as he pressed it down. “They're competitive.”

 

Near smiled his crooked little smile. “And if we hadn't been the first to see you -”

 

L opened the door. A choir of delighted squeals and excited shouts flooded from the room.

 

“... God knows _when_ we would have gotten another chance to see you... in one piece,” Near finished.


	4. Most Certainly Involved

Chapter 4

**Most Certainly Involved**

 

The God of the New World was positively dumbstruck.

 

“L, I missed you so much!” a little girl squealed, latching her tiny arms around the detective's knee.

 

“I missed you _more_!” another girl piped up.

 

“Look, L, I's lost two tooths since you last visited!”

 

“Did you catch the thief who robbed the bank last week?” a slightly older boy intervened.

 

“Did you catch Kira?”

 

“Did you catch _Grinch_?” was asked with wide, trusting eyes.

 

“Look, Uncle L! I drewed a picture of you!” A drawing of a black mess on top of white and blue stick figure lines was pushed into L's hand.

 

“And I, look L, I drew – L, look!” Tiny hands shoved a drawing of a green balloon with eyes and spikes in the detective's face. “I drew a _dinosaur_! His name's _Timmy_!”

 

L, the greatest detective alive, was covered in children. Stranger yet, he seemed to enjoy it. Perched in his signature pose in the middle of the couch, children from ages two to fourteen flanking him on both sides, the smallest crawling into his lap or across his hunched shoulders, each with a question or a valuable piece of information tumbling past their eager lips, little hands tugging at L’s hair and sleeves, he listened to every story, answered every question, complimented every drawing. Light found his eyes constantly drawn to the detective’s face: he was smiling, a small, barely noticeable smile, but it was more genuine than Light had ever seen on that face.

 

And suddenly Light was incredibly jealous of how easily those children could get a hug, a smile, a pat on their heads or even a little peck on their foreheads from L. Sauntering over to the couch, he yanked the three kids glued to L's left side away from him and sat next to him, deliberately very close.

 

“Hello, everyone,” he sang in his best I'm-lovable-and-I-know-it-damn-well voice, flashing a heart-melting smile. “I'm Light, L's boyfr -”

 

“My co-worker,” L filled in, fixing Light with a blank stare filled with murderous aura. The room had fallen silent; twenty-three children and teenagers were staring at them, some with confusion, some with their eyes and mouths wide open, and two (one with blond hair and another with red) with mixed terror and delighted mischief.

 

Light smiled a honey-sweet smile and, to the detective's horror, draped his arm casually around his shoulders. “Oh, don't be shy. They're going to find out anyway,” he drawled, leaning in to kiss his captive's cheek, only to get a mouthful of raven black hair as the man turned away. Gritting his teeth, Light arranged his face into a brilliant thousand-Wat-smile and looked at the kids. “You see, we're together.”

 

“... In an experiment,” L continued hastily, noting that many of the kids looked confused. “That's why we are chained together.”

 

“But we would be together even without the chain,” Light said, narrowing his eyes at the detective.

 

“Yes, because we work together,” L shot back, glowering at him from the corner of his eye.

 

“And _sleep_ toge -” Light started.

 

“- ther in the same bed because of the chain,” L finished without missing a beat.

 

Light beamed like the sun and growled, “I believe your opinion will change as soon as I kiss -”

 

“... the chain goodbye!” L chirped through his teeth.

 

Light was losing his temper. “L, I’m serious, I will kick -”

 

“... off? I could live with it,” L hissed.

 

“... your _ass_ ,” Light finished his own sentence.

 

At his point, Near flinched slightly and buried his face into his hands. “Those were two words I never wanted to hear Light saying... especially when aimed at L...”

 

Matt reached out to pat the younger boy's shoulder sympathetically. “Me neither, buddy, but the question really isn't what Mr. Californian Sun wishes to do with our brother's butt, but -”

 

“... how he found out he _has_ one, in the first place?” Mello leaned in to whisper. “I mean, it's practically nonexistent, and with the way L dresses -”

 

Light watched in amusement as L's eye started to twitch. “Mello, you're on a very chocolateless diet until Christmas. Matt, you're going without electronics. Near, I'll buy you a new robot. Please keep thinking that way. And Light-kun...”

 

“Yes, dear?” Light smirked.

 

“... Please refrain from using foul language in front of the children. And before I forget, you are sleeping on the floor tonight.”

 

A little hand was raised.

 

“Yes, Kelly?” L asked in a much softer and gentler voice.

 

“What kind of an experiment is it?” a girl of maybe five years asked, furrowing her brow.

 

L and Light glanced at each other. “It’s a social experiment,” L replied. “We're experimenting how two people of significantly higher-than-average intelligence act when forced to co-exist for an... unlimited time.”

 

“Like how you get along?” Kelly asked. L nodded, and the girl looked at them critically. “You're not very good at it,” she informed them.

 

Light snickered, and L's kind half-smile faltered. “Thank you for your opinion, Kelly,” he forced out.

 

\---

 

“Light-kun, a word with you?”

 

Light raised his eyes from the magazine he was reading and glanced around. The kids were scattered around the house, most of them still in the living-room with them, playing, drawing and doing whatever children did to amuse themselves. Except for running around and yelling; L had sent the noisy kids to be noisy somewhere else, saying he needed to think.

 

A particular pair of the aforementioned noisy youngsters caught Light's attention, specifically by being absent. “Where are Mello and Matt?” he frowned. He had gotten the impression that the two troublemakers liked to stay around L as much as they could, and missing a good opportunity to leer at them with that ominous mixture of horror and mischief seemed very much unlike them. Especially considering the request L had just made...

 

“I sent them to get more firewood from the shed in the backyard,” L said. Light lifted a brow, and L followed his gaze to the pile of logs right next to the fireplace. “Yes, I know. I did not want them to lurk around while we have a little... chat.” He fixed the younger man with an intense, vaguely irritated stare. “In the kitchen. Alone.”

 

“Well, now,” Light grinned smugly, getting up and following the peeved detective out of the room and into the mysterious mixture of old and new that was the kitchen. Old-fashioned in style and appearance but state of art in technology, it had a strangely homey feeling to it.

 

L went straight to the fridge, apparently to find something sugary to soothe his nerves. “Why did Light-kun do that?” his voice echoed from the endless insides of the fridge.

 

“Why did I do what?” Light asked innocently, examining the nails of his chained hand with care.

 

L re-emerged from the fridge with a piece of strawberry cake, and the thin line of his lips and the slight narrowing of his black eyes betrayed his annoyance. “Why did Kira-kun imply to the children that we are involved in a romantic relationship?” he inquired.

 

Ah, so they were back to Kira-kun again. L was extremely pissed off, then. Light couldn't help but smirk.

 

“Why is Ryu-chan so adamant on giving the impression that we are not?” he inquired silkily.

 

L stopped with a strawberry halfway to his mouth. “Back to Ryuzaki?” he asked, eying the younger man warily, deliberately ignoring the honorific Light had seen fit to use of him. There was enough to fight about already as it was.

 

“Well, since you started with the aliases again...”

 

The raven-haired detective regarded him with cold eyes – not icy cold, but rather the seeping, whispering chilliness of thick mist, the kind that could hide legions of assassins in it. “I see,” he replied, and Light could almost see a breath of that white mist escape from his lips along with those two words. “I must say that I am not at all positive that Kira is an alias to Light-kun. It appears to me that Light Yagami is an alias to Kira – a character he uses to do what Kira cannot.”

 

Light shrugged. “Who knows? It's certain that Light Yagami was here first. However, I have a much more interesting question in mind – is L Lawliet the greatest detective alive, or is the greatest detective alive an alias of L Lawliet – or is L Lawliet just one of your many alter egos?” Light watched with fascination as a look of discomfort – one that L tried to hide behind the usual blankness – flashed in the detective’s eyes. His identity was a sore spot, then.  “And more importantly,” Light continued, “does it matter?”

 

L started visibly at that. He evidently knew he had slipped; he knew that Light had seen that look of uneasiness in his eyes, and had clearly expected that he'd keep probing at the matter, poking, intruding, questioning, attacking and harassing him until he'd break; just like he’d had done all the time since finding out his name. He had not expected the younger man to shrug it off just like that.

 

“Kira and L the detective are mortal enemies,” Light mused out loud. “Light and Ryuzaki are friends. And Light and L Lawliet are, like you said, involved in a romantic relationship. Perhaps that's all we need to concern ourselves with.”

 

L's earlier anger returned at that. “I'm afraid that I fail to see how we are involved in a romantic relationship, Kira-kun,” he replied acidly. “I do agree that we are most certainly involved,” and he lifted his right hand at this point to emphasize that he was talking about the chain and the case, “but there is nothing romantic about our relationship.”

 

“That would be because you're selfish, spoiled, and only pay attention to others when you're trying to catch them doing something that would give you the right to condemn them,” Light said casually. “It takes two to have a relationship, L, and until now you have only paid attention to one half of ours: yourself.”

 

“I _have_ paid attention to Kira-kun,” L argued. Light noted that his fists were curling up. “That is all I have done for almost two months! I have been forced to observe and analyze your every move, to try and evade them, to endure the way you treat me, to mind my words so that I wouldn’t upset you, to act in a way that allows me to keep my dignity but does not anger you. I have never in my life spent so much time and effort to keep someone happy. I have never been so considerate towards another person!”

 

“And yet you have failed to notice that you can't exactly claim that our relationship is completely without romantic feelings when you haven't asked how I feel,” Light replied in a very calm, carefully measured voice, though he couldn't help but feel a mixture of pride and guilt at the detective's outburst. At the same time, he was both exhilarated and terrified at his own words: there, he had given it form, put it into words, and actually said it! Well, sort of said it. _Implied_ it at least. Surely that was all that someone as clever as L needed to hear, right?

 

L opened his mouth to reply, but before he could get a word out, his eyes widened slightly as the implication suddenly hit him. Instead of a snappy counter-attack, his mouth opened and closed, giving the wide-eyed detective the unfortunate appearance of a fish on dry land. As Light waited, holding his breath, eyes locked with the other man, L’s lips drew together to form a thin, determined line. It wasn’t a promising look; the detective was going to reject him, a knee-jerk reaction to anything emotional. Light steeled himself, reminding himself that he was prepared for this, that he had always known L wouldn’t be that easily convinced of his feelings or immediately welcoming to them even if he believed him.

 

And that was when they suddenly became very aware of the small, white figure standing next to the door. This awareness was a direct consequence of a toy missile bouncing back from Light's forehead. Very slowly, the detective twosome turned to look at Near; the boy answered their looks with an even, uninterested gaze.

 

“I want ChocoPops,” he announced in his monotone, lowering his weapon – ahem, his robot. “And I grew tired of waiting for you two to finish your relationship drama, so I interrupted you. You may proceed once I have had my bowl of ChocoPops.”

 

“You mean Mello's ChocoPops,” a slightly stunned L muttered.

 

“Yes,” Near admitted. “That's why I want them.”

 

\---

 

“L?”

 

Light looked up from his newspaper to see L turning his attention from a sudoku to the child tugging at his sleeve, clearly reluctant to be dragged back to the real world so soon after Near’s interruption had enabled him to escape from it. “Hmm? Yes, Kelly?” he murmured, as though hoping that a quiet reply would not alert Light to his presence.

 

The younger man, seated right next to him but on the other side of the galaxy for all that the detective seemed to care, gave a small sigh and lamented Near’s tactless interruption; L had taken the opportunity to withdraw behind his walls and had slinked out of the kitchen as though nothing of importance had happened, picking up a magazine of professional level sudokus and ignoring Light completely as he focused on them. He tried to console himself that the interruption had, in fact, been rather timely; L hadn’t had the chance to reject him, and now the detective would have time to consider his words before reacting in any way. Perhaps more time to think was exactly what the emotionally stunted man needed, as much as Light detested having to give it to him.

 

“Would you tell us a bedtime story?” Kelly was asking, opening her brown eyes wide and looking like she'd absolutely die, probably very tragically and bloodily at a relatively young age, of boredom and lousy up-bringing if L had the heart to refuse.

 

L's child resistance was far better than average, schooled by many years of living and visiting here, but it wasn't _that_ good. The detective regarded the girl with a slightly helpless (and more than slightly worried) look in his eyes. “Well... I suppose I could...” he started hesitantly, as all the children in the room, not to mention Light, were looking at him expectantly by now.

 

“But no criminal stories!” Kelly demanded. “I had nightmares last time, when you told that story about that guy who liked to burn houses with people inside!”

 

“That's true,” Matt commented. “She kept running to our room in the middle of the night for weeks. Mello was furious.”

 

“I need my beauty rest,” Mello defended himself. “How can I sleep if our room is flooding with kids all night long and you're acting like you're expecting to receive some Big Brother of the Year Award -”

 

“Yeah, because you just love to wake up to children crying and you'd never ever dream of saying, 'Matt, shut them up, I'm trying to get some sleep here'...”

 

Light stared incredulously at the slim man next to him. “You tell stories from your _work_ to the kids?” he asked. “L, have you noticed that you work with the bloodiest, goriest and most disturbing stuff there _is_?”

 

“I only tell those to the older children,” L defended himself before turning to Kelly. “Kelly, you should not have eavesdropped. That story was not meant for your ears.”

 

Kelly stuck out here tongue. “I wasn't even hiding well, so you should have noticed me! This time, I wanna hear a princess story.”

 

L looked even more uncomfortable than before. “I don't think I know any princess stories...”

 

“Oh, I can help with that,” Light interrupted, a plan forming in his head. “I know quite a few, my little sister was absolutely crazy about them when she was younger.”

 

L opened his mouth to retort. “Ah, so that's why you grew up to be such a Ken doll,” Mello snickered, and L snapped his mouth shut and pouted like the boy had just stolen the words from his mouth.

 

Light shot a glare at the blond, then put his newspaper aside and shifted into a more comfortable position. “A princess story, then?” he asked the children who had sneaked closer. Pajama-clad kids were scattered all over the floor and armchairs in front of them, and the smallest crawled onto their couch and into L's lap. To Light's satisfaction, one of them – the boy who had drawn a dinosaur named Timmy – planted his pajama-padded bottom very casually right next to him; he was finally starting to win some of the kids to his side.

 

“Once upon a time,” the God of the New World started in a story teller's voice, “in a faraway land, there lived a princess called... Elle.”

 

L twitched and narrowed his eyes at Light. The other children didn't seem to take notice of the pun, but Near's brows hid behind his bangs again, Matt seemed to bite back laughter and Mello snorted; smirking, Light continued.

 

“Princess Elle was smart and pretty, and her father, King Watari knew that when married to the right man, she'd make an excellent queen one day.” L elbowed him in the ribs at _married to the right man_ , but he ignored it. He figured that most of the children knew Watari as Quillsh Wammy, with the exception of Mello, Matt and Near. The trio chuckled at that, confirming his thoughts.

 

Kelly's arm shot up. “Mr Light, princesses aren't smart and pretty, they're wise and beautiful!” she corrected his rookie mistakes.

 

Slightly irked by the interruption, Light did his best to come up with a warm smile as he replied, “Well, Miss Kelly, Elle was smart and pretty. She was a slightly different princess. For example, she wasn’t particularly well-mannered.” A sharp elbow hit his ribs again, and the younger detective found himself wishing that the dinosaur boy had sat between them instead of his other side. “In fact, she was downright rude,” Light grimaced, rubbing his sore ribs.

 

“Which was exactly why no prince nor king wished to marry her,” L continued sharply. “The princess had planned this very carefully, because she did not want any foolish men to hinder her when she inherited the kingdom. She knew without a doubt that she could rule the kingdom the best with no interruptions from pompous royals, so she deliberately behaved so that no man would like her.”

 

“Ah, a feminist,” Mello concluded darkly.

 

“Mello, what's a feminist?” Kelly wanted to know.

 

“It's a girl who hates boys,” Mello explained.

 

Kelly blinked. “Isn't that a _lesbian_?”

 

“No no,” Matt came to his friend's rescue while Near buried his face into his knee, attempting to radiate a very strong aura of _I don't know them_. “A lesbian is just a chick who likes girls more than boys.”

 

It was Light's turn to elbow L. “What the _heck_ have you taught these kids?” he hissed, bewildered at the exchange going on in front of him.

 

L elbowed him back angrily. “I have not taught them anything!” he shot back in a hushed voice. “I bring them presents, provide them with the best teachers in the world, and spoil them ruthlessly, but I have not taught them anything on… on those matters!” He looked like he wanted to gesture wildly to emphasize the distaste he felt for _those matters_.

 

Light raised a brow. _Figures_. “Well, maybe you _should_ have,” he countered. “Mello and Matt are fourteen or fifteen or something, and boys their age get curious if you don't explain these things to them –”

 

“You're not that much older than they are,” L muttered.

 

“And I _am_ curious. _Very_ curious.”

 

L blinked at that, at Light’s suddenly very deep voice, at the intense look of his golden eyes, and hastily turned his confused gaze to his own knees. Light took great pleasure in the detective’s slightly flustered expression, and in the fact that for all of his intelligence and snappishness and readiness to retort back at him, L apparently had no idea how to respond to that.

 

“Well?” Kelly tugged L, and particularly his sleeve, back into reality. “What happened to the lesbian princess?”

 

“She was not lesbian,” L protested. “She was merely too intelligent to be interested in anyone.”

 

“That's right,” Light said. “And that's why King Watari summoned all the unmarried princes, kings and knights to his castle to find a husband for his daughter, since he knew that her Royal Rudeness would never find a man on her own.”

 

L gave Light a dirty glare which, in the eyes of anyone else, would have been a blank stare, but to Light was a clear, “ _Your confidence in my seducing abilities is overwhelming_.”

 

Smirking slightly, the auburn-haired man continued. “You see, like in all good stories, the princess was cursed. Her curse was that of eternal sleeplessness; in other words, she suffered from insomnia, which was exactly what made her so grumpy.” More snickering from the armchair supporting Mello in the middle and Near and Matt on each armrest. “So the King announced that the first noble man to break Elle's spell would receive her hand in marriage, and a kingdom to rule beside her once King Watari decided to retire.”

 

“Failing to realize that a man who could cause the princess to fall asleep despite her curse would have to be unbelievably boring and dull, and thus hardly the perfect example of a great future king,” L added with venom.

 

Light narrowed his eyes at being indirectly called _boring_ of all the adjectives. “And so, a steady flow of noble young men started to visit the castle every day. They all had to go through difficult trials to meet the princess, for they had to be brave enough to cope with Elle's impoliteness, strong enough to take her blows when she got mad – she had a really mean right foot – I mean, hook – and intelligent enough to handle a conversation with her.”

 

A thoughtful look entered L’s eyes. Light gave him a small smile, fairly certain that the detective had just realized that they had not actually fought – not physically – for weeks, not since the power balance between them had changed. Yes, L had purposefully tried to avoid aggravating his captor, like when they had been packing to leave for England; Light remembered the look in the older man’s eyes as he had considered and eventually decided against starting a fight. However, the curious look L was now giving him indicated that the detective had suddenly been reminded that previously, Light had been guilty of starting at least half of their scuffles. Yet after the change, Light had been equally careful to not get into a fist-fight, even though he now had no apparent reason to treat L with any care.

 

L’s eyes bored into Light’s as the man obviously tried to puzzle through the riddle. Why? Was it because Light knew L wouldn’t dare resist too hard in fear of upsetting the fragile truce, of bringing the ruthless killer out and inadvertently causing Watari’s death, perhaps even his own? Because the fight wouldn’t be any fun if L didn’t participate, or because it would raise questions if only L was bruised?

 

Light could see the exact moment when L remembered their conversation in the kitchen, the hesitation as the man tried to decide whether he should trust Light’s implication of romantic feelings enough to consider it as a factor in his calculations.

 

Light blinked, purposefully breaking the eye contact, and leaving L to sort out his thoughts as he turned back to the children and continued. “The next few weeks saw it all: one prince tried to wish her asleep by asking it from a genie, using one of his three wishes only to fail; a medically experienced knight gave her drugs that would have knocked out an elephant, only to see the princess still up and sipping her tea hours later; a northern barbarian king ordered his shamans to perform a sleep dance, which the highly educated princess criticized to the mud. A young, dreamy prince even went so far as to read his own poems to Elle, and after three hours she was already wishing that she could indeed fall asleep to avoid hearing _The 67 th Sonnet for a Butterfly_ or another _Ode to Tulips_.”

 

The children giggled at that, and even L had a tiny smile tugging at his lips, his internal debate postponed for some later hour. Light had a feeling that had someone forced the detective to listen to bad poetry for three hours, he would have probably set the fool up for a triple murder and had him confined for the rest of his life within a day.

 

“Then one day, an unknown knight entered the castle,” Light finally introduced them to the hero of the story. “He was a stranger from far-off lands, and the rumor had it that he was a mighty warrior, a slayer of many fearsome beasts, a victorious general in many battles -”

 

“Not to mention an incorrigible boaster...” L saw it fit to add.

 

“... And also an educated man who had bested numerous evil wizards with his intelligence. His name was -”

 

“... Lumière,” L interrupted.

 

Light stilled, hesitating. “Lumière?” he asked.

 

“Yes, _Light_ -kun,” L replied sweetly. “I believe that you have studied French, am I correct?”

 

Light frowned. “Enough at least,” he admitted, before rolling his eyes. “Fine, then. His name was... Lumière, and since he was courageous, wise and strong by nature, it didn't take long from him to pass all the trials to get to meet the princess. L, I hope you realize that Lumière doesn't sound at all knightly...”

 

“What a pity.” L turned towards their audience and picked up the story. “Once Sir Lumière entered princess Elle's chamber, she saw immediately that this man was exactly the type of pompous nobleman she wished to stay away from. Hoping to scare him off with impoliteness, she greeted him by saying, 'I hear you are quite the hero, Sir Lumière. You certainly look like one; clad in an armor that is barely big enough to contain your swollen ego. I hope you do not intend to tire me by boasting with your accomplishments and all the gory details of your battles. Another knight tried that already, but he turned strangely green when I explained to him – explicitly – exactly what happens to a human body when its stomach is slashed open.'”

 

“'Ah, Your Highness,' said the knight, 'I have been warned of your feisty nature and of your bad mouth, and I shall not be shaken so easily',” Light shot back. “'In fact, I find it rather endearing that you attempt to appear so strong and fierce in front of me, when in reality you are deeply afraid that, if beaten in your own game, you might end up losing your freedom – and worse still, your trembling little heart – to me.'”

 

L’s eyes narrowed at the final part of the younger man's words. “'Why, pray tell me, dear Sir, should I fear for my heart, as it is already taken?' asked Elle,” he retorted. Light observed from the corner of his eye that while the younger children were listening in awe, Mello, Matt and Near had straightened and were looking at them with sharp eyes.

 

“'It is?'” Light said in his Lumière the Knight voice, a little sharper than he had intended, more than a little alarmed at the sudden turn of events. His mind worked furiously while his mouth kept running the story. “'Why, I did not know of this; what a surprise. But fear not, my dear princess! If that is the case, I shall be satisfied with merely having your freedom, at first.” He cringed a little at his own words; the poorly formed sentence had immediately caused L’s nostrils to flare as he inhaled sharply. “Once we are married, your heart will certainly belong to me in no time.'” Still, he supposed, badly chosen words aside, there was no point to gloss over his intentions. After all, he was not about to let L go, no matter what.

 

L stared hard at him, nostrils still flared and perhaps a touch paler than usual, but his voice was perfectly level as he replied, “'Your arrogance knows no bounds,' the princess chided, 'but know that my dedication to my people shall not be swayed by a mere man, not even one with all that confidence. And bear in mind that you must break my curse before you can claim my hand in marriage.'”

 

Light felt something relax within his chest. The princess was _dedicated to her people_ , not to another man. L’s heart, or the tiny part that was available to the world, was already taken, but not by some unknown man or woman, a secret lover, but by his orphan family and his dedication to his work.

 

“'Ah, but has anyone tried to break the spell by using the oldest of ways?'” Light asked with a sly smile, reassured by L’s veiled admission that there was no one else. “'For my princess, there is only one way to truly break an evil curse: a true love's first kiss,' the knight said, and suddenly he stepped forward, scooped the princess into his arms, and kissed her on the lips before she could escape.”

 

The girls squealed and awwed. A couple of the smaller boys made faces at what they deemed quite possibly the grossest thing two people could engage in together; the older ones, namely the three nesting on the armchair, were more interested in looking intently at L, whose hand had twitched as if to raise to cover his lips. L didn't, for once, seem to realize that he was being looked at, for his huge charcoal eyes were locked with Light's amber ones.

 

Without releasing L's eyes from the grip of his gaze, Light continued in a quiet voice, “And the moment the knight's lips touched hers, she fell limp in his arms, and deep sleep claimed her for the first time in years. Sir Lumière carried her to her bed, and called the King to see for himself that Princess Elle was indeed asleep. The King was overjoyed, as he had feared that his beloved daughter would never get a decent night's sleep in her life, and he was glad to promise the knight that they could be wed the moment Elle woke up again.”

 

L looked bewildered, as though he knew he should have felt insulted, should have thrown in a witty remark, but he couldn't get a single word out of his mouth. Light was channeling all his intentions, all his emotions in the gaze he kept locked with L’s, and to his joy and slight surprise, the detective, previously immune to all his charm, seemed captivated by it.

 

“And so, after sleeping three days and three nights in a row, Elle returned from the land of dreams, and she married Sir Lumière the very same day. While she was still slightly opposed to the thought of being his wife, she accepted her defeat with dignity, for the long sleep had done miracles to her, and she had never felt better. Much later, when King Watari retired to spend his last days in peace, Sir Lumière proved to be an excellent king, who ruled with justice and peace with his beautiful queen by his side; and as years passed, Queen Elle did indeed learn to love her husband – although she would have never said it out loud.”

 

A long eye contact, a fleeting touch on L’s hand, and suddenly Light was looking at the children again, smiling that peaceful, kind smile that had charmed so many girls back in Japan. “And so they lived happily ever after,” he finished the story, basking in the enchanted, admiring silence and misty-eyed stares of the children. “Now, I believe it's already past your bedtime, kids...”

 

It was like Light had cast a spell on the orphans; instead of arguing and whining, they got up, wished each other sweet dreams, the smallest kissing L goodnight before trudging upstairs to go to bed. Looking unusually thoughtful, even Mello departed with nothing but a muttered “Night, L. Enjoy your time on the floor, Light,” and Near and Matt trailed after him, bidding them goodnight as well.

 

L and Light were the last to leave the room; Light turned off the lamps and started ascending the stairs in silence. He didn’t look back, knowing that L followed him in a confused daze, and so he didn’t see L raise his fingertips to touch his lips. Lips that, the detective had a strange feeling, lips that were still tingling from the kiss the knight had given the princess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What’s this? Is L beginning to have a clue??


	5. Of Confusion and Curiosity

Chapter 5

**Of Confusion and Curiosity**

 

Mello was confused.

 

Could it be? It certainly seemed so. But it was impossible, wasn't it? Damn right it was, but still... No, he was sure he had been imagining things. Pretty sure. Sure-ish. ... Unsure.

 

It wasn't the idea that L, his idol and older brother, could very well be involved in a homosexual relationship involving chains and princess-and-knight role-playing that had kept Mello up all night. No, it was the idea of L having a romantic relationship with anyone or anything at all, be it a man, a woman or an apple. Mello found it incredibly hard to consider the world's best detective a sexual being or even a social creature; he could still remember that one time when L had found a porn magazine in his possession and had, after a few moments of curious shuffling through the pages (while Mello had been trying to will the floor to open and swallow him), handed the magazine back to him and declared in his monotone that he was happy to see his successor studying human anatomy with such care.

 

... Of course, there was a very slim chance that it had been sarcasm.

 

But still – the thought had kept him awake, turning and tossing around in his bed. He had tried reading, drinking warm milk, sleeping with his feet on the pillow, changing his PJs and opening the window for a moment, but all he had achieved was cold toes, and L and Light were still intruding his mind.

 

“Matt,” Mello had whispered sometime around four in the morning. “Do you think they're together?”

 

Matt had grumbled something, turned around, kicked the wall and muttered, “Don' ask me, 'm jus' a lil' goldfish...”

 

Now, in bright daylight, the boy almost had the decency to blush at the very explicit and mostly unwelcome images that had run through his mind during the night. Almost; this is Mello we're talking about, after all. He had finally come to the conclusion that there was no relationship between L and his friend, although it seemed that Light wouldn’t have been opposed to one. He'd have to tell L about his temporary loss of faith in his mentor's unapproachability; surely he'd be forgiven, since everyone makes mistakes at times, right?

 

And this was why Mello was up so early, trudging the stairs to the former attic. The house had been crowded when a 5-year-old L had come here, but Mello had no idea why the detective still insisted on living in his old, tiny room, when he could have had a bigger one downstairs. Near had once said something about “sentimental value” when he had voiced his opinion, but said in that unemotional monotone of the ghost-like boy, it hadn't exactly convinced Mello.

 

The door to L's room was locked. What stopped Mello dead on his tracks, however, wasn't the very simple lock (he had picked it so many times in his life that he had lost count), but the noises coming from the other side of it.

 

There was screeching and scraping, as if a heavy piece of furniture – a bed, for example – was being dragged along the floor, accompanied by loud clattering and rattling. Then there was a low “You son of a...!” growled in Japanese, a sharp smack, a squeal of the bed springs, and then silence.

 

Thirty seconds later, Matt was also confused. His confusion, however, was based on the somewhat blurry memories of being ripped out of his warm, cozy bed by a hysterical blond, and the almost equally blurry present moment of said blond flailing and blabbering about “L and Light doing it like _hell_ ” and an apparent need to “rescue L from the claws of the sadist immediately and preferably yesterday”.

 

\---

 

The horrible truth behind the noises Mello had heard was, naturally, quite different from what it had appeared to be. Coincidentally, the real story _did_ involve the handcuffs.

 

The very same handcuffs that Light had woken up to see he now inhabited alone.

 

L had taken off while he had been sleeping, attaching his end of the chain to the bedpost. At first Light had been angry; then slightly scared, and then even angrier. Finally he had, however, managed to calm himself down with reasoning; L wouldn't have run away. Firstly, the detective had no way to know when Light would wake up, find him absent, and finish him off with the hidden piece of Death Note the detective knew he still had somewhere. And, well – L valued his own life above justice, at least, though not above his obsession to never lose a game. That he might have risked his life just to get Light arrested was out of question – no, L wanted to be there to smirk at him at the moment of his victory. He wanted to live to see Kira defeated.

 

Secondly, even if L _had_ left to arrange his arrest, he wouldn't have done so here of all places. Here, a cornered Kira could easily agree to the Shinigami eye deal, and voilà – he'd have a house full of hostages, all of their aliases useless against his brand-new eyes. He may have ordered Ryuk to stay in Japan (the Shinigami had agreed readily, as apparently Mrs. Yagami bought the best apples), but he had no doubt that the creature would appear in a heartbeat at the slightest chance of sealing a deal with him.

 

And, finally, the truth was that L knew he'd get killed the moment Light truly thought he had escaped, and since Light knew that L knew that, he could trust that L intended to return, and, in return, L could trust that Light knew _that_ and wouldn't write down his name. So in the end, it all came down to a mutual trust – or distrust.

 

Well, Light figured after reasoning his temporary surge of panic into submission, since he now had the unique chance to search L's room without the detective peering over his shoulder all the time, he knew exactly how to spend his time until the raven-haired man returned. The problem was, he was attached to the bedpost, and though the room was small, the desk, the only item worth investigating, was just far enough that he couldn't reach it.

 

This was what inspired the noises that had caused poor Mello to go running to Matt. Light had dragged the bed closer to the desk, hit his toe, cursed and punched the unresponsive mattress to express his displeasure towards the misbehavior of the wooden leg of the bed. After dealing his divine justice to the wrongdoer, the God of the New World sat casually on his throne – or his bed – and set to exploring the depths of L's desk drawers. This was the room where his reluctant companion had spent his childhood and his teenage years in – there had to be something still left to tell him who the hell L really was or had been.

 

Light had searched L's drawers and wardrobes numerous times at the Kira Investigation Building, and he had been sorely disappointed by what he had found – faded jeans, white shirts, and a small variety of other types of clothes (most of which had appeared brand-new and unused) were, along with his toothbrush and bubblegum toothpaste, pretty much the only personal items L had brought to Japan. But this house wasn't a place where anyone was supposed to be able to trace him to, so maybe the detective hadn't completely destroyed all the evidence of his earlier life. Maybe he'd find...

 

... the drawer locked.

 

Damn it.

 

\---

 

“I am confused,” L admitted to A and B.

 

Or rather, the cold iron cross that stood under an old, snowy oak in the farthest corner of the old cemetery near the Wammy Manor. There was a small church in the middle of the graveyard, but its bells had been quiet for some decades; the abandoned building had been forced out of its long sleep only to withhold A's burial ceremony years ago.

 

The iron cross had A's real name and the times of his birth and death carved into it, and long icicles were clinging to the cross-piece. L had written B's name and the supposed dates of the beginning and the ending of his life in the snow; he had ordered that a tomb stone should be set right next to A's for him, but it hadn’t been done yet. Somehow, he felt that if B was indeed dead, killed by Kira as it was commonly believed, this was where his spirit would linger.

 

Not that L had believed in things like a “spirit” before he had met Light.

 

There were a lot of things L hadn't believed in before he had met Light.

 

Like the Shinigami. Or murdering notebooks. Or love. Or himself. Or people, in general. He still wasn't sure whether he believed in the latter three or not.

 

Since he was usually approximately twenty steps ahead of everyone else, Light's implication that he might have romantic feelings for L had caught him completely off-guard. L had never considered himself a potential object of love, desire, or pretty much anything but hate, fear and respect – excluding the complicated mixture of love, possessiveness and jealousy that came in waves from the general direction of his three emotionally challenged heirs.

 

Besides, he thought almost petulantly, Light hadn't said anything to that direction before this! He _had_ touched L more often and more casually during the last two months, but all those times – a hand on his shoulder, fingertips brushing against the small of his back, or the feel of Light's breath ghosting over the skin of his neck when the younger man snuggled very close, uncomfortably close to him at night – had always seemed like mere displays of his new power over the older detective. Why should have L interpreted them as anything else but Light’s inclination to control everything and everyone?

 

So no, L had never considered that the sudden increase in physical contact could be anything but yet another way for Light to gloat his victory over him. It was just that now that Light had set the gears in his mind moving, there was no stopping them. Romantic interest in a person often, though not always, translated into physical attraction to the same person. As foreign as the concept was to him, L wasn’t naïve. If Light had, against all odds, been honest about his feelings and if it followed that the younger man found him attractive (what a strange idea!), it was logical to assume that the new, excessive physical contact between them was only a prelude to much more of the same. The younger man held all the cards. If that was what Light wanted, it seemed logical that it would be only a matter of time before he would use his position of power to demand more.

 

Even so, all those touches had been… gentle. Insistent, persistent, yes, and trespassing into L’s personal, practically non-existent personal bubble in several ways, _yes_ , but at no point had Light actually forced him in any way. So far, Light had yet to do anything but force him to tolerate the contact for a short moment, as though to help him to adjust to having someone so close to his person. The implication of a kiss through the fairytale had been the boldest action in that way thus far.

 

And therein lay the reason for L’s growing confusion. Earlier, Kira had shown signs of childish fits of anger at being denied something, and even when Light had been convinced of his own innocence, he had been impatient and made it clear that he liked to be in control of things. It seemed odd of him to now show such gentleness and patience, such restraint, when there was so very little L could do to stop him.

 

Then again, Light knew him probably better than anyone else, and had to know that he didn't feel comfortable with any kind of human contact at all (excluding the children in the Manor). Light had probably predicted that he'd get a very quick demonstration of that “really mean right foot” if he tried to advance any faster. Even with his life, or even Watari’s, in danger, L was still a proud creature, and Light would have been a fool to expect him to just fold and give in.

 

But there it was: Light’s actions and words both seemed to imply that yes, the younger man was very interested, and yes, there would be more of this manner of behavior in the future. The thing was, for some unfathomable reason L couldn't tell even himself that he wasn't curious.

 

That was just one of the downsides of being a detective, he tried to convince himself. If you don't know something, you just absolutely must find out. You can't let a matter rest unless you know how it works, what it feels like, what causes it and what it leads to. Relationships were new to him; of course he was curious.

 

He sighed, openly annoyed now that no one was looking. Crouching in the snow, he reached out his mitten-clad hands and gathered some of the powdery snow in his palms. “He thinks he can play me however he wishes,” he grumbled to the silent graveyard. After all, talking to himself was a habit he had only forced himself to kick right before chaining himself to Light. “Always probing and poking at my personal life, asking me things that are not any of his business. Smiling that annoying, dazzling smile, blinding everyone else to what he really is, ordering me around, trying to win my orphans to his side, turning them against me... Whining about my eating habits, my posture, my sleeping schedule – there doesn’t seem to be a single thing he _does_ like about me! And he's always concerned about his looks! Whenever he sees something that reflects, his gaze is glued to it, and he's arranging his hair, or straightening his suit, or examining his nails, and it makes me far more conscious of my own appearance than I am comfortable with. _And_ he likes to correct my words. It’s infuriating! Even when he can find no mistake in what I have said, he just has to define something I mentioned in _more_ detail -”

 

He stopped his rant to take a deep breath, suddenly feeling a little foolish and unexpectedly abashed at having gotten so worked up over this. Finally he exhaled with so much force that the powder snow on his palms went flying, the tiny snowflakes glittering in the cold winter sun as they danced in the air.

 

“But...” he whispered to the snowflakes glimmering in front of him, “you see... my life used to be so much more _boring_ before he came along.”

 

For years, he had been little more than a machine, and intentionally so. Hidden away from the world, a mystery even to his orphan family, he had wrapped himself in a cocoon of murder and mayhem, curled up safely behind a wall of electronic devices and become a letter on the screen. _Human feelings lead to errors, and in this line of work, L, errors cost lives_ , he’d been told, and he had agreed, had done his best to eliminate all emotion form his thought process and think only analytically, only logically. Divested of his humanity, he had thought he would reign forever – that the concept of L, the superhuman sleuth, would reign forever, immortal in his faceless, nameless line of successors – impartial and just, second only to God.

 

And then Light had waltzed into his life, his every move, every expression, every action declaring, “ _I am God_ ”. He had become L’s counterpart, his equal and his opposite. Impartiality was no longer possible, and justice was a matter of point of view.

 

Another sigh escaped from his lips, and he leaned backwards, landing in the soft snow on his back, arms spread on each side. “Of course,” he muttered to the spirits possibly listening to his confession, “it is incredibly annoying, and since we are both such sore losers, we might never be able to come to an agreement. But even so, I have never felt more alive. When I do something, he is already moving to counter. When he speaks, I can feel a witty remark rising to my lips even before it is my turn to speak. As strange as it sounds, there is something synchronized in our moves... like a predetermined choreography intended specifically for us.”

 

He paused awkwardly; great, now he was coming up with lousy metaphors. He stopped to consider the thought for a moment, and snorted at the mental image of him and Light skipping across a theater stage, trying to make each other trip while keeping a safe distance. Even so, there was some weird sort of harmony in the way they kept sidestepping, tip-toeing and twirling around each other – he had to admit it.

 

... But not out loud.

 

“Despite everything,” L finally said to the quiet winter morning, “sometimes I have this alarming urge to tell...” he blinked, “... Near... that it's very rude to eavesdrop on someone's monologue.”

 

For a short moment, it was very, very silent.

 

Then Near came from behind the oak, shuffling to stand next to L's head, and looking down at him with a touch of sheepishness in his little smile. A hand raised, apparently on its own accord, to twirl his already curly locks around a finger. “Good morning, L,” he said casually, as though he’d just happened by on a morning stroll.

 

“Good morning, Near. You have grown very tall since we last met,” L replied amicably, staring up at the boy, suddenly realizing what he must have looked like to Near when the boy had first come to the orphanage. He'd been thirteen back then, and Near had been... well, they didn't know. He had been left on their doorsteps in a big, black handbag, so no one knew his real name or age. They had estimated that he couldn't be much older or younger than one, so they had decided to celebrate that day as his birthday.

 

L had found the kid himself – the curious stare from the bottom of the handbag had stopped the teenaged detective as he had been on his way to take the trash, and for a moment they had just looked at each other. Then L had decided that the baby was far more interesting than taking the trash, and had abandoned his task in order to go introduce his new little brother to Watari.

 

“I'm still growing,” Near said, tilting his head. “Would you like me to help you up?”

 

Carefully avoiding mentioning what he had or hadn't heard, L noticed. And not for the first time; he still had no idea how much the white-haired boy had heard of his fight with Light the day before. “No,” he replied finally. “I find it's rather comfortable to lie in the snow. Properly clothed, of course. It seems to have a... calming effect on me.”

 

“I see.”

 

Silence reigned for some minutes; Near had turned his gaze to the pale, cloudy sky, his face expressionless but still somehow looking like he was contemplating something. L examined his youngest brother carefully, noticing with some surprise that he truly had grown up a little. Some of the childish roundness had given way to sharper, more strongly defined features, and the fingers that kept playing with the white hair were now long and slender. A strange feeling settled at the bottom of L's stomach as he realized that his heirs – his brothers – were growing up rapidly, and there was no way he could hold them back much longer.

 

Great, this was just what he needed. More of these “strange feelings” that had something to do with emotions. _Apparently_ , the world's best detective thought sourly to himself, _I am not as emotionless as everyone – including me – likes to believe_.

 

And then the air was full of powdery snow again, and Near was trying to find a comfortable position in the snow next to him. L turned to look at him and lifted a brow questioningly.

 

“I have to put your theory on the calming effect of lying in the snow into a test, don't I?” the boy defended his decision.

 

Always so suspicious, and never entirely truthful. Couldn't let a matter rest unless he knew how it worked, what it felt like, what caused it, what it led to.

 

L nodded in agreement and turned away so that Near wouldn't see his grin. DNA and genes were irrelevant; this boy was definitely his brother.

 

In his mind, he imagined telling this notion to Light. The younger man would laugh at him, laugh that kind, warm laughter L had sometimes managed to bribe out of him with a sarcastic joke, before he’d regained his memories. And then he'd tell him that for the best detective the world had to offer, he could be incredibly dense at times; and L would pretend to be hurt, and that would make Light laugh again.

 

And for some reason, the thought of Light's laughter brought a tentative smile to his lips.

 

\---

 

While L was practicing some constructive closeness with Mother Nature and Brother Near, Brothers Mello & Matt Co. was preparing to invade the Old Attic Room, the capital city of the Kingdom of Light, to save their fearless captain from the dungeons of their archenemy.

 

“Aha!” Matt whispered smugly as a small click told him that the lock was now open. He withdrew the hairpin (Mello's, not his) and nodded at a very nervous but determined Mello to indicate that the gate to the enemy's fortress had been broken.

 

“Ready?” Mello whispered back, motioning Matt to back a few steps and taking a fighting stance. “Good. CHARGE!” he roared suddenly and kicked the door open with so much force that it almost got ripped off its hinges.

 

Light stared at them over his shoulder from the other side of the room, his face expressing approximately 60% of surprise, 10% of a potential non-Kira-related heart attack, 25% of amusement and 10% of embarrassment at being caught red-handed. Wait, Matt stopped to reconsider, that was 5% too much...

 

“AHA!” Mello announced, pointing an accusatory finger at Light. “You filthy little -”

 

“... Mello, L's not here...” Matt observed. He had a bad feeling that he had, _once again_ , allowed Mello to drag him into yet another episode of _The Mello Show_ (rated R).

 

Mello froze. He stared at Light; Light stared at the finger presented five inches from his nose. “... Aha!” the blond finished with much less enthusiasm. “You... you...” Suddenly his mind seemed to catch up with his eyes. “You're chained to L's bed!”

 

“And that's a crime on _my_ part how?” Light asked, somehow managing both dry and scandalized at the same time.

 

“How dare you!” Mello seethed, marching closer and making shooing gestures with his hands, apparently trying to wipe Light off the bed without having to touch him. “Get up! Unchain yourself immediately! That's _L's bed_ , isn't anything holy anymore? Oh, the manners these days!”

 

Light rolled his eyes and leaned back to avoid getting hit by the blond's flailing arms. “I assure you I didn't chain myself here, and besides, the key's run off...”

 

“AHA!” Mello howled once more. “He escaped from you! That's my brother! What did you do to him? If you hurt L, I'll make you regret the day you were bo – the day you laid your hands on – the day you – well, I'll make you regret!”

 

“Yeah, big time,” Matt supported him with considerably less gusto.

 

The Japanese man heaved a deep sigh from the bottom of his heart. “I didn't do anything; I don't even recall falling asleep while he was talking to me, and you probably know how that can put his tail into a twist. All in all, I suppose he just wanted to do something which didn't require my attendance, and didn't have the heart to wake me up so early.”

 

“And so he chained you to the bed?” Matt's eyebrows raised to greet his hairline.

 

“I don't suppose I could write that off as his playfulness?”

 

“No, unless L has changed a hell lot since his last visit. Not that he can't be playful, but...”

 

“Playful makes me think of cats,” Mello intervened, unexpectedly distracted by the new line of discussion. “L does resemble a cat at times, doesn't he?” He blinked. “Wait, no changing the topic!” he growled, pointing his finger at Light again. “You there! You're -” His eyes focused on Light's hand – still holding the knob of the top drawer – and widened. “You're looking at L's stuff without his permission!”

 

“Trying to,” Light responded, and there was a considerable amount of “pout” in his voice, though he was much too grown-up and self-conscious to let it show on his face. “I would appear to have a lock problem.” His expression brightened as he glanced at the door the two youngsters had broken through. “But I'm sure you two could find a way to get past the lock in no time!”

 

Mello and Matt glanced at each other, identical looks of incredulous horror and disbelief on their faces. “Possibly,” Matt replied slowly. “We've never tried.”

 

It was Light's turn to look incredulous. “But... I thought you were just as insufferable and unethical with your research methods as L!” he blurted out. “I thought nothing was sacred to the two of you!”

 

“Well, yes,” Mello sounded slightly hurt, “but this is _L_ we're talking about...”

 

The auburn-haired young man looked at the younger teens in disbelief. “You joke about the existence of his _butt_ and then come telling me that his drawer is sacred?”

 

The younger two shared another look. Suddenly they didn't feel at all like they were the ones attacking, let alone rescuing someone (someone who didn't even bother being present, waiting to be saved). They felt like two schoolboys getting scolded by their senior. The topic of their scolding was perhaps a bit unorthodox but...

 

“Oh come on.” Light sounded a little frustrated. “There's a drawer in this room that contains something the world's three best detectives has locked away, and he isn't here with those hawk eyes of his. Can you seriously tell me that you aren't the slightest bit _curious_?”

 

One more glance. A long eye conversation occurred right in front of Light.

 

Then they smirked.

 

Boys their age tend to get curious.

 


	6. Mellow Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: At this point I feel I should remind you that even though this fic is fluffy and sweet enough to rot your teeth, it’s still canon enough in some respects. As in any even remotely canonical LightxL fic, their relationship is riddled with consent issues due to the power struggle and the general imbalance between the two. The mere concept of the story – Light holding L and Watari’s lives over L’s head to make him cooperate – gives rise to these issues. They have been breached in passing before this, but as this chapter takes a slightly closer look at them, I felt it necessary to mention this now, and some of the content in this chapter may be triggery to some readers. Even though I Won’t Say does not and will not take any particularly grim or explicit turns in this aspect, I ask every reader to remember that in a healthy relationship both parties should always feel safe to say no when they feel like it, and neither party should be continuously pushed past the limits of their comfort zone. I deem it necessary to state this because I recognize that my own understanding of consent and relationships used to be a little skewed when I was younger, entirely due to both popular media and fanfiction handling the topic poorly and insufficiently and me being young and impressionable. Alas, I fear that this story has been guilty of the same until now, and I’m trying to do better with this edited version.
> 
> This dark note aside, please enjoy the chapter! And fear not: nothing terrible actually happens.

Chapter 6

**Mellow Memories**

 

“Oh, crap,” Matt groaned. “Just when I had managed to erase that from my memory...”

 

Mello was grinning widely. “Now, now, I think you made a very cute little raccoon. Thieving and destructive creatures, those raccoons. Cute as hell but they'll wreak havoc wherever they go...”

 

There was a photograph in Mello's hands; one of a Halloween party roughly ten years ago. A four-year-old Matt was pulling at the ears of his raccoon costume, tongue stuck out and looking like he didn't think a raccoon was at all fitting for someone as manly and grown-up as him. Next to him, Mello, all of five years old, was mimicking a mighty roar from the toothy mouth of his crocodile costume; and behind them, they could see the crouched figure of a skinny teenager with wild raven black hair, attempting to stuff a physically disagreeing Near (three years old and already fighting all norms) into a polar bear costume.

 

“He said there are no pictures left of him,” Light murmured, reaching out to brush his fingertips softly against the figure of the tiny teenaged detective in the photo.

 

“Lied,” Matt told him bluntly. “There's at least the one on the wall in the living-room. There's a picture of every kid who has ever lived here. Watari likes to keep the memories. There's even a picture of -” He ended his sentence abruptly, hesitating and then looking back at the photo as if to pretend he had never opened his mouth at all.

 

“He's got a lot to remember,” Mello said (partly to cover up for his friend's slip), and Light couldn't quite decide whether it was a jab at the elderly man's age, or a sad remark on just how much a man of his age must have loved and lost in his long life. “Plus, we have photos of L as well. But, well... we don't exactly go showing them around, so it's possible he doesn't even know about them.”

 

“Why couldn't I be the Crocodile Dundee?” Matt whined, quickly steering the conversation back to a more playful ground – before it got too serious. “That's been bothering me for over ten years! I really wanted to be the Crocodile Dundee...”

 

Mello looked scandalized. “Isn't it obvious? The world's not big enough for a croco tamer and me when I'm a crocodile!”

 

“I'll make handbags out of your skin,” Matt threatened. “I had people pinching my cheeks and squealing 'ohmygosh, how _cute_!' all night...”

 

“Feel free,” Mello countered, “if you can find the costume somewhere – I bet it'd make a really trendy handbag for you...”

 

Light tuned them out, taking a small stack of photos out of the drawer. They were mostly of Mello, Matt and Near at varying stages of childhood and the terrifying age of being a preteen, some of them with Watari, who looked exactly the same as he did now; but there were some of people he didn't recognize, too. A young woman in an old black-and-white photograph, sitting in front of a fireplace, holding a dark-haired child in her white arms, reading a book. Two young boys, one with blond hair, the other with a dark, fluffy mop covering his eyes, lying on the floor, attacking coloring books with passion, crayons in their small hands; the blond had dyed an airplane in bright colors, but the dark-haired boy's butterfly was completely red.

 

What fascinated him the most was the slender, bony boy with black hair, pale skin and huge eyes that twinkled with a bit more mischief than they did nowadays. L had clearly ended up in every photo by accident or by force, and even when he hadn't yet had a reason to hide his identity, he seemed to avoid showing his face to the camera. Maybe his paranoia wasn't a result of his detective years after all; maybe he'd been a paranoid all along. Maybe that was why he had survived long enough to meet Light.

 

Photos... Seemed a bit too sentimental for L, but then, L had always liked to keep what he valued most locked away – his memories, his heart, his identity – and of course, _me_ as well, the young man finished his mental list with a little smirk, thinking about his long confinement and even longer time chained to L.

 

Underneath the photos there were paintings and drawings, and though there was no signature, Light realized immediately that they were L’s work. Stunned by the artistic talent displayed on those old, already yellowing papers, Light wondered whether the detective had ever seriously considered a more artistic career. It seemed it would have made more sense, somehow – artists were allowed to, even expected to be eccentric, the world accepted them as they were, thinking their oddities and quirks as some misunderstood form of genius; detectives were supposed to be middle-aged, reasonable and cynical. And what would've the world looked like if L had become a painter instead?

 

Well, for starters, we would have never met each other, Light reminded himself, and banished the thought from his mind. As much trouble as the stubborn detective had caused him after the letter L had appeared on all screens in Kanto for the first time, Light wouldn't have traded it for anything. Not now. L was right where he belonged – in Light's life, not in some dusty atelier.

 

It wouldn't hurt to try to make him draw again, though.

 

“He's actually quite the escapist, isn't he?” Light said quietly, holding up a painting of the sea on a windy day, with gray clouds hanging low above the deep blue and green waves. Despite the simplicity of the view, the picture was littered with an astonishing amount of details.

 

Mello and Matt stopped laughing at the pictures; they glanced at Light, then at each other. “We all are,” Matt said finally, keeping his goggle-clad eyes on the picture in his fingers rather than his companions.

 

“Why do you think we do what we do?” Mello shrugged, his green eyes staring straight at Light's amber ones, unashamed and unarguable, before tilting his head and letting his gaze slide over to the window, clearly uncomfortable looking anyone in the eyes as he talked about this. “We are all bored to death of this world and this life, so we need more and more to keep ourselves happy. Nothing keeps us entertained for long. Matt knows the fantasy worlds of his games better than he knows this one, Near builds, breaks and re-builds cities and castles of dice, L solves cases. Really, he's the only one of us who actually does something useful with his boredom...”

 

Matt nudged his friend gently with an elbow. “You've failed to mention yourself, Mellow.”

 

The blond boy nudged his friend back with a slightly less gentle elbow movement, and Matt tumbled off the bed. “Well,” Mello muttered sourly, turning his attention back to the photos; he was holding one where he was trying to push a four-year-old Near off L's lap, “I suppose I drown myself into competing everyone. If you can't be the best...”

 

“... why be at all,” Light finished, eying at the photo as well. “Good is not enough when excellent is expected and best is possible. That's how I was raised.”

 

Was that true, though? Was that really the way he’d been raised? He had always thought so, and certainly his parents had always expected the very best from him. But looking at these orphans, these children who were literally being raised to produce nothing but the best results, to become a faceless letter on the screen, he had to wonder. Good things had always been expected from him, yes, but not taken for granted. Excellent grades had still earned him smiles, compliments, small presents, and the occasional failure had been treated with hugs and kisses, not anger. He’d always felt the pressure of needing to excel at everything, the pressure to be the best, but now he was suddenly left wondering if that pressure had been the result of his up-bringing after all. Perhaps it had been a result of the demanding school system, the social circle of successful kids he’d been introduced to at an early age. Perhaps it was what he did to fight the boredom, like Mello said; never be satisfied with less than perfect.

 

Mello looked up at him, startled at first, then grim and smirking. “Then you know what I mean. You, too, have to keep doing whatever it is you do, because if you stopped, you'd have to go back into that boredom, and you wouldn't know what to do with yourself anymore. And that would drive you insane, until you wouldn't want to exist anymore.”

 

Light answered his gaze, didn't waver or avoid it. “That's pretty dark words from someone so young,” he replied quietly, feeling like he fully understood the blond boy for the first time, in a sense even better than he had ever understood L, but deciding to contemplate that later. Right now the notion was a bit too shocking for him to accept.

 

Suddenly Mello grinned, once again knocking Light out of balance. “What can I say? Fifteen is the golden age of teenage angst!”

 

Matt rolled his eyes from a very difficult position between the bed and the wall. “If you've stopped being serious, could I get back on the bed now? Preferably with some aid, because I think I'm kinda stuck...”

 

Mello laughed, easily and lightly, like a boy his age should, and reached out to grab Matt's shirt. Light watched with mixed feelings as the kid yanked his friend up, sat him next to himself and even dusted off his clothes with an amused grin. Just seconds before the blond had said something that had made him think he could have easily become Kira had the Death Note landed in his hands instead of Light's.

 

Boredom was the key, he realized. He had been dreadfully bored. Mello still was. L... He'd never let L be bored again, he swore to himself. And keeping L entertained would prevent boredom from rounding back at him as well.

 

“Oh,” someone said suddenly.

 

Heavily.

 

And disapprovingly.

 

L was standing in the doorframe, his head cocked, his face cool and even but eyes – to those who knew them – blazing. Near stood next to him, looking vaguely amused.

 

Light resisted the urge to swallow. “See?” he said casually to Mello and Matt. “Told you he didn't run away.”

 

Mello and Matt glanced at each other, then at the opened drawer and the papers and pictures covering their laps. Then Mello flashed an amazingly white smile. “Morning, L! We came to save you from Light, but you weren't here to be saved. We're deeply disappointed in you!”

 

“Yes,” L deadpanned, “and because you thought I wasn't worth saving since I wasn't here, you decided to fraternize with the enemy and broke into my drawer.”

 

Mello fell silent with a very uncomfortable look on his face; Matt took off his goggles and blinked his blue eyes, by some magic managing to summon a teardrop into the corner of his left eye.

 

“He forced us!” the redhead cried, startling everyone, pointing at Light with a trembling finger. “He... he said he'd do t-terrible things to you if we didn't...”

 

L looked just as taken aback as Light was. “Ki... Light-kun said that?” he hissed, glaring at the other man furiously.

 

“Of course not!” Light exclaimed, shooting a furious glare of his own at Matt. “You cunning little raccoon!”

 

Even Mello looked astonished as the redhead sprang up and ran into L's startled arms. “Please, L, don't be mad at us!” he wailed. “We really... we really just wanted to protect you... You have no _idea_ what he told he'd do to you!”

 

The room was very quiet for a moment. Then L sighed, lifting a hand and patting Matt's head. It looked a bit awkward, but not nearly as much as Light would have thought – a small teenager practically sobbing into a very patient-looking L's shoulder? A week ago Light would have considered such a sight quite unlikely. A month ago he would have laughed his head off at the idea.

 

“Near,” L said finally, and the white-haired boy glanced up at him. “There's a bag in Watari's room. I would like you to go and retrieve a package of handmade chocolate and the newest Final Fantasy game from there.” Mello's eyes visibly brightened at that, and Matt seemed to twitch in the detective's long arms.

 

Near heaved a deep sigh. “You do know that you're getting me into trouble up to my ears, don’t you?”

 

“I'll make it up to you somehow. Please hide the game and the chocolate well. Especially the chocolate, I swear Mello can smell it.”

 

Mello's mouth fell open, and Matt jerked back from L. “What?!” they both screeched in unison.

 

To Light's delight, L smirked slightly, poking the redhead on the tip of his nose. “Do you really think I have forgotten how you two were when you were little? You were always the first to come crying to me when one of your pranks went wrong, Matt, because you knew if you got to me first, you could make it seem like someone – usually Mello – had made you do it, and then you could avoid punishment.”

 

Light glanced at Matt, and was surprised to see the boy grinning, wiping his apparently fake tears away. “Well, it usually worked!” he replied smugly. “But looks like something – or someone – has made you better at dealing with emotions.”

 

Light took the implication as a compliment.

 

“Ouch,” L admitted.

 

Mello punched his redheaded friend in the shoulder with a grin. “Damn, you almost had me there! And they call _me_ a drama queen...” Suddenly his eyes narrowed. “Wait, where did Near go? He didn't take it seriously, did he?” he gasped.

 

L lifted an eyebrow. “Oh? I suppose he did. _I_ was serious.”

 

For a second, Mello and Matt stared at their brother in horror, before dashing off yelling their missing friend's name in an enraged choir. Light's chuckling at them was cut short when L closed the door behind them, locked it, and then just stood there, back to Light, head bowed.

 

Silence dragged on, and Light was starting to feel fidgety before L finally spoke up.

 

“Why?”

 

Light had been prepared for anything from accusations to L throwing a fit, had expected another mind game to emerge between the two of them, but with that one, simple question, L had caught him completely off-guard.

 

Funnily enough, it seemed the question had caught the detective off-guard as well, for he had lifted his hand to cover his mouth the moment it came out.

 

“Why what?” Light urged quietly, honestly having no idea what L was referring to.

 

“Why...” the detective seemed to search for the words – or for a proper ending to attach to the unplanned question he had already left hanging in the air. “Why did Kira-kun open my drawer?” he finally asked, and it must have sounded rather ridiculous even to his own ears because he cringed slightly right after saying it.

 

“Why did I...?” Light laughed incredulously. “You left me unsupervised, and I was curious. Obviously.” He glanced at the pile of photos and other papers. “What's the big deal? It's not like I read your diary. They're just old pictures, L, and though I think it's rather cute of you to treasure them so much, I don't understand why it was worth denying Mello and Matt their Christmas presents. If someone traces you back here, it will hardly matter anymore if they see these.”

 

L turned around and walked to the bed, snatching the remaining photos away from Light's hands. “I didn't hide them from the world, Light-kun,” he said, in something that was like a whisper and a yell and a hiss at the same time, looking far too upset for Light's liking. Suddenly Light couldn't find it in himself to be interested in the way L altered between the two names he used of him. “I hid them from myself. I knew I shouldn't keep them, but I couldn’t bear to get rid of them, and I locked them away so they couldn't remind me of anything...” He trailed off, looking distracted and distraught, his hands clutching the photos with white-knuckled strength, eyes wide.

 

Light got up and tried to take the papers back from his friend – enemy – whatever – slightly alarmed by his reaction. “It's okay, L, if it’s so important, we can always put them back and lock them up again,” he tried to soothe the man, touching his face gently with one hand while the other tried to pull the pictures out of his unyielding grip.

 

“No, we can't!” L replied, a look of anger and something else, something almost like panic, suddenly flashing in his wide, black eyes. “I got rid of the key. I had it melted, I had every single copy of it melted, and made sure Mello and Matt and even Near knew exactly how much I wanted to keep that drawer locked. I never expected to have to relock it!”

 

“Then -” Light made to grab the pictures from the detective's flailing hand, but missed, and almost toppled over. “Then we'll just have to find another place to hide them in. Seriously, calm down! I'm sorry I asked them to pick the lock, but I'll add to my defense that they didn't mention how important it was to you that it stayed locked!”

 

“Kira-kun doesn't understand!” L hissed, sidestepping from Light's way, hiding his hands behind his back so the other man couldn't reach them. “It's already too late to fix it, because I already saw them, and now my mind is flooding with memories I wanted to keep locked away for the rest of my life!” His black eyes shone with anger, and Light found that he was half-elated and half-terrified that he had managed to summon such rage from the apparently emotionless man. For the first time, he wondered whether he could hold his own against a truly furious L, whether purposely angering him had been such a clever move after all.

 

“Then talk to me!” Light yelled, grabbing the distraught detective's shoulders. He wasn’t sure if he was trying to diffuse the situation or goad further emotion out of the other man; for once, he was acting on instinct. “Tell me what is so terrifying about those memories! Have you ever actually tried telling someone what's on your mind? It’s a scientifically proven fact that talking about things that bother you usually helps, you know!”

 

“Like I would tell Kira-kun of all people,” L growled, trying to fight the hands off his shoulders while still keeping the offending memories out of Light's reach. The struggle ended suddenly when his heel caught something, and the two of them found themselves collapsing onto the bed. Photos and painting went flying, L's lungs emptied suddenly as a very startled Light collided with his chest, and the chain, the stupid chain connecting Light and the bedpost, was now wrapped around L's midriff as a result of their turning and struggling before the fall.

 

The fury in L’s eyes dissipated in one sharp, shaky breath, replaced by what looked like full-blown panic. Never before had he been so easy to read: now, Light could see his thoughts in those wide eyes, as clearly as if they were written across the detective’s face. _Trapped. Trapped beneath the body of another person. Trapped beneath Kira._

 

After a short, stunned silence, Light pushed himself upright, kneeling over L’s hips. L’s lips parted and moved soundlessly as the older man tried to form words, to talk his way out, but it was evident from the look on his face that besides the panic, his brilliant mind was completely blank. He looked helpless, vulnerable, and suddenly and out of nowhere Light was just as furious as L had just been. L had no business looking that fragile, that scared; he was the counterpart to Light, to Kira, the only equal Light had ever known! He was supposed to _know_ Light better than this, know better than to be so afraid, and it was an insult that L would look so terrified of him now!

 

“L,” Light growled in a low, dangerous voice, “I have told you from time to time that I'm no longer planning your death, and your constant disbelief in me is really taking a toll on my patience. No, actually, I think my patience has finally run out...”

 

The detective swallowed a strangled gasp as the younger man grasped his wrists and, leaning forward, pressed them against the mattress, hovering over him, chest to chest. L’s mouth snapped shut, eyes impossibly wide as he struggled to breathe through his nose. Light was vaguely aware, somewhere in the back of his mind, that L’s expression had awakened something terrible within him, something that had been dormant since he’d lost his memories, something that had not stirred with the rest of them when the Death Note had touched his hands again.

 

He leaned in, close enough to kiss L, and whispered into his ear, “I’m tired of riddles and games, L. I think I’ve made it very clear that I have no intention to kill you, and I think you also know why. I want you in my life. All of you. And I’ve been very careful, very patient, and I’m sick and tired of being careful and patient.”

 

L’s breathing became increasingly frantic at that, but otherwise the detective seemed to freeze completely, with his lips tightly closed and eyes wide. One of Light’s hands left his wrist and traveled down, caressing L’s face, the side of his neck, his shoulder as it moved, and finally settling on his hip, thumb tracing the sharp outline of the hipbone, fingers hooking in the belt loops of his jeans. It felt wonderful to finally give in, to finally touch L in such an obviously meaningful way, even if the experience was marred by L flinching at his every touch, trying to jerk away from the contact.

 

“Light-kun,” L whispered, protested, parting his lips only enough to let those two words past them, and he sounded breathless and terrified.

 

But he wasn’t fighting back.

 

And just like that, Light’s anger washed away, and the terrible monster that had stirred from its long slumber was gone. His fingers loosened around L’s wrists, thumb caressing them gently, as though in apology, and the hand he had settled on L’s hip now moved to cup his face. Light was smiling. “See, L? This is why I’m trying so hard to be patient and careful with you. You should have seen the fear in your eyes just a second ago, and you'd understand. L, can't you see? I try to give you time, to give you room, I try to fix your eating and sleeping habits to keep you healthy, I try to help you adjust to this new situation because I know you dislike all human contact. All this I'm doing for you. L, ever since I found out your name, what have I done to benefit myself?”

 

L stared up at him, startled by the unexpected turn. Light could see suspicion in his eyes, dread that this was all an elaborate plan and the previous course of action would resume any moment now, but there was something else there as well. Curiosity? Gratitude? Respect..?

 

“... Why?” the detective finally asked again. “Why do you insist on keeping me alive when it's so much trouble to both of us?”

 

Light felt like he’d been slapped. L blinked at his expression, obviously surprised by what had to be naked hurt on his face. _Still_? _Still he asks that_?

 

“I just told you, didn’t I?” he responded after a long silence, exasperated and a little angry, a little weary. “I want you in my life. I want you in my life more than Kira needs you dead. I don’t want to kill you, L, no matter how much trouble you cause me. I want you to live. With me.” _Especially with me. Only with me_.

 

L blinked slowly. “Why would anyone want to live with me?” he asked, and he seemed honestly confused.

 

Light was dimly aware that his face had to be an open book right now, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Shock, disbelief, anger, sadness, hesitation and determination flashed across the younger man's features in a heartbeat, and before he could stop to reconsider, he had lowered himself again and pressed his lips against L’s.

 

It took approximately 3,5 seconds before L unfroze enough to even blink.

 

And 2,3 seconds more for his eyes to widen again as he apparently realized that he was being kissed.

 

They never found out how much longer it would have taken him to react, because by then Light was sitting up again, glowering down at him.

 

“ _That's_ why,” he snapped.


	7. Anonymous Chocoholics

7

**Anonymous Chocoholics**

 

Closeness was strange.

 

Physical closeness was uncomfortable. Mental closeness was dangerous.

 

The combination of the two was, however, not as bad as one would have thought.

 

There was the warmth flush against his back, and around his waist, and the breath ghosting against the back of his exposed neck, and the fingers playing with his. There was the low voice talking to him, and the silence that told him the other was listening to his answers. Listening to _him_ , not just his deductions concerning a case.

 

L had a feeling that Light was listening so intently that he probably heard him blink his eyes, heard his blood coursing through his veins, heard his heart beat slowly – though he could probably _feel_ the latter against his own chest, being that close to him. Such interest shown for L as a human being was so unfamiliar that he found himself stammering and stumbling over his words constantly. It was strange, unsettling and embarrassing.

 

“Tell me something,” Light said after a long silence, and L wondered absently what on earth were they doing, lying in bed in the middle of the day, in one another's arms. He felt fairly certain that Light’s unexpected kiss had knocked something off-balance in his brain, and was mildly concerned, but… Frankly, he had no energy left to spend on worrying about it. The minutes immediately after Light had kissed him were a blissful blank to him, and he had a sneaky feeling that his mind had short-circuited at the sheer shock of being kissed.

 

He was vaguely aware that it was relatively unusual for a person to experience his very first kiss at the age of twenty-five. It was, he thought, even less common for said kiss to be administered by a serial killer. That it had been followed by such kindness, such care, was almost unimaginable, but there it was: Light’s eyes had been soft and his hands had been gentle as he’d gotten up and carefully untangled the chain from around L, allowing him to shift into a more comfortable position.

 

For the longest time, neither had said a word, L processing the unfamiliar turn of events in frozen shock and Light clearly making the conscious choice to give him all the time he needed. Minutes had ticked by, and L had curled up on his side, tried to protect himself from the onslaught of the jumbled thoughts whirling in his head. More minutes, an hour, perhaps, had passed, and slowly, gingerly, Light had lowered himself on the bed behind him, inching closer at regular intervals and stopping frequently to give him time to push him off if he so wished.

 

He hadn’t.

 

And finally, two hours and an eternity had passed, and Light had slipped his arm around L’s waist, draped it very loosely over him so the older man wouldn’t feel caged by it. L’s heartrate had picked up for a moment, but Light had stopped moving then, and after a while L had dared to relax a little.

 

“Like what?” he asked slowly, very much aware of the arm around him and the presence behind him, and very much determined to think about it _later_. He was feeling far too content where he was to start questioning _why_ he was there.

 

“I don't know,” Light replied quietly. “Something about yourself. Something you think you can tell. There's no need to push yourself. Tell me something insignificant. Like what are your favorite books, what you liked to do when you lived here as a child, did you have any pets...”

 

“We're not allowed to keep pets in Wammy's House,” L said. That seemed like a safe thing to say. Except that... he had inadvertently said 'we' and used the present tense, implying that he still thought of himself as one of the orphans living here, as he had never known any other home. To cover up this half-slip, he added, “I had a small cactus once. It died, so I suppose it's good I wasn't allowed to have a pet.”

 

“You killed a cactus? How?”

 

“... Forgot to water it.”

 

He could feel Light prop himself up to one of his elbows, could feel the amused eyes scanning his face, and refused to look back. “You managed to kill a _cactus_ by not watering it?” the younger man asked incredulously. “L, you truly are amazing.”

 

“Or merely incapable of taking care of anything living,” the detective muttered.

 

“You seem to do just fine with the kids here.”

 

“They get loud if I forget to water them. Or... feed them.”

 

Light laughed at him, and L was pretty certain he should have felt offended. He was also pretty certain that feeling offended didn’t usually involve a tickling, flipping sensation in the bottom of his stomach, which seemed to be caused by the feel of Light’s laughter vibrating gently against his back.

 

Silence reigned, L focused on his fingernails, the butterflies in his stomach fluttered, and Light started playing with his hair.

 

“L.”

 

“Light-kun?”

 

“You didn't punch or kick me when I kissed you. Does that mean -”

 

“I was in a state of shock, Light-kun.”

 

“But you still haven't punched or kicked me.”

 

“... I'm still in a state of shock.”

 

“But your subconscious must have agreed with the kiss. If that wasn't the case, I'm sure -”

 

“In a _severe_ state of shock, Light-kun.”

 

“... Fine, whatever.” Oh, L could _hear_ the grin in his voice!

 

“What,” he asked slowly, having to half force the words out of his mouth, “does Light-kun want of me?”

 

A pause. Light was considering how to arrange his words. “A chance,” he finally replied. “A chance to at least attempt a relationship. That’s all I ask, and I won’t demand more.”

 

Wheels were turning furiously in L's head. Turning onto his back to get a look at Light, he questioned, “And what about Kira-kun?”

 

Light, still propped up on one of his elbows, looked down at him, but his eyes weren't seeing him. Deep in thought, the younger man stroked the detective's hair gently, apparently not even realizing he was doing it. L didn't deem it necessary to stop him; he was much too preoccupied by watching Light's face for changes in his expression.

 

For a second, he thought Light's jaw tightened, his eyes flashed dangerously, but then the younger man shook his head slightly, smiling a little. “Light was here first,” he reminded the detective. “Kira did want you dead, yes, but only because you were a threat. I have only ever wanted to know you, to befriend you, even before I met you.”

 

His eyes were focused on something around L’s left ear, and it suddenly struck L that in some ways, Light was just as socially awkward as he was, just as unaccustomed to real emotions. The difference between them was that Light was comfortable navigating the sea of social life and had learned to fake and imitate the appropriate emotions and reactions, whereas L had never bothered. The uncharacteristic unwillingness to look him in the eye now was either a calculated move to make him appear more vulnerable, or a sign that the young man was being completely honest.

 

“L,” Light murmured after another long pause, his voice barely above a whisper. His fingers were still playing with a lock of L’s hair, and the detective had a fleeting, wild thought that if the younger man kept worrying the already tangled hair much longer, he’d soon have dreadlocks. “I can’t stop. I can’t let you stop me either. You must know that. But if we can work around that, I’d want nothing more than your companionship. I want you to give me a chance.”

 

L was positively speechless, because for all that Light could be ruthless and manipulative and cunning and for all that L _absolutely knew that_ , he found himself longing to believe the younger man, believe that this was real, no ulterior motives. He stared back at Light, trying to read his intentions, weighing his expression and tone and words, coming up with and abandoning different plots and schemes that might be behind those words, different ways he could use this situation to his advantage.

 

And then, quite unexpectedly, he heard his own voice saying, “Okay.”

 

What? When had that been decided? L scowled internally and made a note to himself to find out exactly what part of him kept throwing these unpredictable comments into the conversation every time he least expected it.

 

“... Okay?” Light asked slowly.

 

Half annoyed at himself for letting the word slip, half victorious because it had apparently caught Light off-guard as well, L nodded slightly. “Light-kun may try to prove me that he is serious with this,” he clarified, coming up with the words as he spoke them and wondering what he was getting himself into. “As you must know, I'm still not convinced that this is not some sort of plot.”

 

“But it _is_ ,” Light said, shrugging and smiling. “Just not one of Kira's. This one is just because I like you.”

 

L blinked.

 

_I like you_. Such a simple expression, such a naïve, almost childish way to express feelings for someone. Such an unfamiliar expression; he couldn’t think of a single time those words had been spoken to him before. In fact, he had no recollection of anyone ever saying those words to him, not even the children, who tended show their emotions in other ways. They had been implied more than once, but never before so explicitly stated.

 

Light, seeming ignorant of the shock his words had caused, eyed the detective carefully. “So I'm allowed to touch you now? Without the fear of having my teeth punched out or my ribs kicked in?”

 

L hesitated. Was he really willing to agree to this? “Within my comfort zone, yes,” he finally consented. Suddenly inspiration struck, and he added, “Obviously, anything against my will would speak against your good intentions.”

 

This was actually starting to sound like an excellent plan. Now, if Light were to keep true to his word, he'd have to not only treat L with care, but also obey him to a certain extent. Why hadn't he thought about this earlier? Alright, so the setting was a bit weird for them both – Light was holding the position of actual power over the other one, which L was more used to, and L would have to manipulate him with emotions and human contact, which Light was especially good at.

 

The corners of Light’s mouth twitched upwards, the irony apparently not lost on him either. “It’s a deal,” he said.

 

\---

 

“L! Roger says you're going Christmas shopping, can we come too?”

 

“Can we _please_ come too?” Matt corrected Mello's words as they barged into L's room. “Never hurts to be polite, Mel – uhh!”

 

Mello had stopped dead on his tracks, thus causing their collision and emptying Matt's lungs for a moment. “Who,” he started slowly while Matt was still recovering, “who are you and what are you doing in L's room?”

 

Still wheezing but alarmed by his friend's words, Matt peeked over the blond’s shoulder.

 

It _was_ L (and Light, who had turned around and whose shoulders were shaking as he laughed soundlessly). It just didn't look much like him. The man standing in front of them was looking at them over an un-hunched shoulder; his hands had apparently been putting on a pair of black-rimmed glasses when they had interrupted him. His black hair had been straightened and brushed; it still stuck out at the oddest places, but in a way that made it look skillfully arranged. His jeans were the same as usual, except maybe a size or two smaller, so they didn't look like they were about to fall off; his upper body was clad in a dark blue sweater.

 

He looked... like a normal young man.

 

“I'm disguised,” the detective supplied after a moment of stunned silence. Behind him, Light let out a muffled snort. “With Light-kun’s very friendly help,” he added, glancing unhappily at the flat-iron resting on the bed.

 

Matt and Mello's mouths formed two neat little O's. Then Mello’s attention was drawn to something else.

 

“Are you wearing _make-up_?!”

 

“It's Light-kun’s,” L informed them promptly.

 

“Just to cover the bags under his eyes,” Light added with equal haste when the future detectives turned their accusing eyes to him. And since the touch of make-up did seem to reside there merely to hide the marks of insomnia, the younger boys dropped the subject... for now.

 

“So who are you disguised as?” Mello asked.

 

“No one,” L blinked. “I believe that is exactly the point. My normal appearance would have people staring at me -”

 

“I wonder why,” Light said innocently.

 

“... so if I look like any young man, no one will pay special attention to me.”

 

Mello and Matt lifted their eyebrows and glanced at Light. “He really doesn't get it, does he?” Matt said.

 

Light sighed ruefully, shaking his head and smiling slightly, as though L were an adorable and stubborn but slightly dumb kitten repeatedly trying to catch a goldfish through the glass of its aquarium. “No, he's absolutely convinced that his plan is flawless.”

 

“I fail to see what in my disguise doesn't fit the picture of an average young man,” L frowned, turning self-consciously to the mirror to inspect his appearance.

 

Light rolled his eyes and reached out to fix the man's hair. “You're way too hot to be called _average_ , L, that's what's wrong with your plan. Every single female being -”

 

“... and every single gay guy,” Mello added cheerfully, earning a half-glare, half-smirk from Light.

 

“... will remember you and probably dream of you.”

 

L stared at them with his usual unimpressed expression. “I find that very unlikely. My plan is flawless, and my disguise is fool-proof. Now, what were you two screaming about before we started discussing my appearance?”

 

“Oh yeah! L, could we please -” Matt started, but was cut short when Mello elbowed him into the ribs.

 

“Matt just wanted to say that we are going to accompany you to the town,” the blond said, smiling a honey sweet smile that could have made Light proud. “Light-o here will be needing some help keeping the greedy paws off you.”

 

Light frowned and opened his mouth to object, but L got there before him. “Where's Near?”

 

Mello's smile turned from honeyed to syrupy. “Oh, he's safe...”

 

“... In a closet,” Matt murmured, apparently cracking under the pressure L was placing on him merely by looking at him.

 

L's eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly, and then he turned to the mirror again. “He'll be coming with us – and you two will be polite to him if you want to come too.” He lifted his arm and looked at the chain lying on the bed with a perplexed expression on his face. “I... I must admit I did not think this far. How are we supposed to wear the chain and look anonymous at the same time?”

 

Light's mouth dropped open. “Were you actually going to wear that thing in public?” he choked out.

 

L blinked at him. “What would Watari say if we didn't?”

 

Mello and Matt followed with interest as the auburn-haired man rolled his eyes and stepped closer to the detective. “Well, I have an idea as to how we could leave the chain here and still be constantly connected. And,” he continued as he took L's hand in his own in a rather decisive manner, “I'm amazed you didn't come up with this yourself.”

 

\---

 

Even Light, who was more than used to watching his plans flow flawlessly, was stunned by how smoothly the day passed. Wammy's House was a short walk from the town, but L decided they would go by foot anyway, to Light's slight surprise. He had almost expected the man to call a limo for any walk longer than one hundred meters.

 

They gathered a lot of wide-eyed looks, disapproving glances and amused grins as they walked the snowy streets hand in hand. Light kept stopping to look at everything that differed from his home country, effectively stopping L as well by the firm hold he had on him. Mello and Matt were running circles around them to see every display window, suddenly more like children than Light had ever seen them before, and Near shuffled after them, sometimes halting momentarily to cast a longing gaze at a toy robot behind the glass.

 

L tried to be a polite host by showing Light around this place he had always thought of as his home town, but was constantly swayed by the sweet scents floating from bakeries, candy shops and cafeterias; and when his nose was under control, Light would often make him trip over his words by suddenly squeezing his hand and smiling warmly, or by leaning unnecessarily close to him to inspect a book on a table. Light, though fascinated by the snowy scenery of the British countryside and the place L called home, both so different and breathtakingly quiet and uncrowded compared to Tokyo, was at least equally interested in L's behavior and made sure to lean a little closer than usual to talk to him.

 

“Ryuzaki, Near’s lagging behind,” Mello saw it fit to report during one of those moments, deliberately interrupting what Light considered a sensitive moment and L an alarming situation.

 

The detective turned to look and saw Matt dragging the small boy by his hand to catch up with the others. “What is it, Near? Are you tired?” L asked, extending his free arm a little awkwardly to beckon the boy closer; Light could imagine the older man googling the words 'a good older brother' so well that he’d probably have to check the detective's page history once they got back home to see just what the man had read.

 

“No, I'm just a little cold,” Near replied, and demonstrated exactly how 'little' cold he was by committing a highly unusual act: snuggling into the dumbstruck detective's arms.

 

“He's freezing to death,” Matt translated from Near to Japanese.

 

L looked troubled. “Near, you aren't even wearing a hat, a scarf, or any mittens. Why didn't you dress properly?” he asked, probably wondering whether it was his fault for not _dressing_ the kid himself.

 

Light coughed, and it sounded suspiciously much like “ _dead cactus_ ”. “Actually, I am the only one fully armored.” He glanced critically at the other four; L wasn't dressed any better than Near, Mello had gloves, Matt had opted for a scarf. “Alright, we're off to shop for some clothes now. Come along, kids.”

 

“Who are you calling a -”

 

“That included Ryuzaki as well, Mello.”

 

“... Oh. In that case.”

 

“I'm deeply flattered, Light-kun...”

 

“Oh, don't whine,” Light scoffed as he led them into a small shop that looked like it might carry the necessary garments. “It's your own fault; you know they follow your every step. A _good older brother_ needs to set an example for the younger ones.”

 

L's hand flinched in his gloved one, and he knew he had guessed right: the ridiculous man really _had_ googled it...

 

The problem was quickly fixed; L wrapped Near up in warm white clothes until the boy asked whether he was supposed to be able to move his arms and legs. Matt and Mello completed their attires with black and red, and while L was busy with Near, Light picked a thick black scarf and wrapped it around the detective's neck before he could resist.

 

“Mittens too,” he said when the man turned around to blink his huge eyes at him. “Your fingers are cold.”

 

And L accepted the mittens he was offered, and didn't even say out loud that the supposed coldness of his fingers could hardly bother the younger man through his gloves.

 

They shopped for some hours; finally the two detectives left their three younger companions in a small cafeteria to warm their hands around a cup of hot chocolate for a moment so Light could get them something as well.

 

“How is Light-kun going to get me a present if I am constantly in his company?” L pondered idly, only half-serious, while Light was picking handmade chocolates for Mello.

 

“Oh, I already have a present for you.” Light smiled. “Are you sure this is a good idea? I'd like to give him something more... material. He'll eat these in a heartbeat and won't even remember who gave them to him...”

 

“There is no better way to get on Mello's good side but giving him chocolate.” L shrugged slightly, feigning indifference, but Light was quick to notice a small shift in his eyes: approval. L was evidently happy that Light was making the effort to get to know his heirs. Light hoped it would signal to the detective that he was serious in trying to win L over, that he realized that L and his crazy orphan family were a package deal and he was still in this for the long haul. “In the Mello Land, nothing is quite as material as chocolate.”

 

Of course, it was a whole another matter whether L’s approval meant that his advice was reliable.

 

“Fine, then, I'll take the risk and believe an unrepentant liar.” Laughing, Light paid the sweets and, out of a spur-of-moment thought, bought a single extra piece of chocolate. “For you,” he said, taking the sweet in his fingers and bringing it to L's pale lips.

 

L blinked and, as if on its own accord, his mouth opened to receive the handmade piece of chocolate. After the sweet Light covered his lips with his own, taking the detective by surprise; but once again, the younger man pulled back before L could react in any way.

 

The girl behind the counter was watching them with a small grin. “You can get another sweet for free if you do that again,” she chimed happily.

 

\---

 

They found the three boys huddled around a small table in the same corner where they had left them. Their table was full of empty glasses and some plates that had apparently contained pie and chocolate cake. Near was sleeping with his head resting on his folded arms; Mello was licking his fingers and using them to pick crumbles of the cake from the plate, while Matt gazed into the rapidly darkening night and the beginnings of a snowfall behind the window.

 

“Are we going home?” Matt asked when they came over.

 

Light chuckled at the hopeful tone. “Yeah, Matt. We're done here, so if you're ready to go, we can head home.”

 

“It's getting late, anyway,” L noted, eyeing Near with an unreadable expression. The raven-haired man pulled out his cellphone and flipped it open to call someone to come get them by car.

 

Light's free hand closed around the phone. “No, let's walk. I'll carry him,” he said, adding in his mind, _and maybe, just maybe, the walk will tire Mello and Matt out as well and they'll go straight to bed when we get back_...

 

L tilted his head, glanced at Near, then at his companions, and then back at Light, apparently understanding his point. The detective nodded, his eyes softening ever-so-slightly, and looked a little surprised when Light pulled his hand away from his. Almost as if he had gotten so used to the feeling of holding Light's hand, the younger man thought to himself as he went to gather Near to his arms, that he hadn't even thought about the possibility that Light would have to let go to be able to carry the boy.

 

Mello eyed Near with a calculating look in his eyes. “L, I'm kinda tired too...”

 

“I will not carry you, Mello.”

 

“... Matt...?”

 

“No way, Mels.”

 

“Oh, the cruelty of the world!” Mello wailed, throwing his arm across his face. “Oh, my poor brothers, who must be possessed by devils to act in such a way!”

 

“Just get your ass moving, Mels,” Matt laughed, dragging the drama queen out of the café while L paid the bill.

 

The walk to Wammy's House was calm and uneventful, if a little slow; at the orphanage, L peeled the excess layers of clothing off Near and performed an inexperienced but gentle tucking in for the sleepy boy. Mello and Matt had crawled into their respective beds while he was at this task; after turning off their lights, taking the PSP from Matt and bidding them good night, he followed Light to his own room, feeling sleepy at eleven thirty for the first time in years.

 

Well, some coffee would fix that...

 

But he never got to get that cup of coffee, because Light pulled him under the covers as soon as he got into the room, wrapped his arm around him, and snuggled comfortably against his side.

 

“Light-kun,” L murmured after a while. “I was going to work...”

 

“Work tomorrow,” Light muttered back, tightening his grip.

 

The detective sighed slightly and decided to wait until the younger man would fall asleep. After all, they weren't currently chained... he could easily slip from Light's arms... a little later...

 

He dreamed about handmade chocolate and ceramic teapots that night.


	8. Ghostbusters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Originally written and published around Halloween and L’s birthday, chapters 8 and 9 are a sort of Halloween-themed mini-fic inside a big Christmas-themed fic. At the time, I had no time for a separate Halloween story, but as it is my favorite holiday in many ways, and not the least because it’s so close to my own birthday, I had been itching to do something for it for ages. While it may seem out-of-place in this story, rest assured that I’d been planning it for a long time beforehand! Chapter 9 remains one of my favorites to this day.

Chapter 8

**Ghostbusters**

 

 

“Absolutely no,” L deadpanned.

 

“Why not?” Light tried to persuade him. “It's a good idea!”

 

“It might very well be the worst idea Light-kun has ever had in his life – _including_ becoming a serial-killer.”

 

“Why? The kids are excited!”

 

“Light-kun asked the kids before he asked me?”

 

“Of course. I knew you'd object. I must admit, though, that I didn't expect you to reject my idea this strongly.”

 

“Taking seven kids from ages ten to fifteen to an old, abandoned building in the middle of the night in the heart of the winter to show them around moldy rooms, rotten staircases, broken windows and leaky roofs so they can catch a cold or break their necks, not to mention scare each other to death, is not what I would call a pleasant picnic with the family or a traditional way to spend Christmas time.”

 

“Oh come on,” Light rolled his eyes. “They're going to become detectives one day, right?”

 

“Not all of them if I have a say in that,” L muttered. “That would leave me unemployed... and very bored.”

 

“I thought this would be a perfect opportunity to let them practice some sensible thinking. At first I thought Mello was only trying to scare the smaller ones, but the kid actually _believes_ that the place is haunted...”

 

L glowered at him. “It _is_ haunted.”

 

The younger man blinked. “What?”

 

“What part did Light-kun not understand?”

 

“Well, the part where you started claiming there are ghosts in that ugly old hovel seems like a good place to start. You can't expect me to believe that -”

 

L turned around to look him straight in the eye. “Light-kun,” he started in a very deep, serious voice. Light swallowed his words and thought to himself that he would listen to ghost stories all day and night if L told them in _that_ voice. “I grew up here. When I was small, the older children used to tell us stories about that house. I _grew up_ fearing it. Obviously, when I became a detective, and learned to only trust what I can prove, I stopped believing those stories... but I never went there again. And then _you_ and your wretched Office Supplies of Mass Destruction and apple-hungry friends paraded into my life, proving beyond doubt that supernatural things _do_ exist. That’s all the reason I need to keep avoiding that house like a dentist’s office.”

 

The younger man was silent for a moment. L stared at him grimly.

 

Light had to fight down a sudden and unexplainable urge to squeal 'awww' and drown the raven-haired man in hugs and kisses.

 

“Well, then,” he tried to reason instead of pouncing on the detective with a fairly girly squeal, “wouldn't it be good for you too to go there and see for yourself that there's nothing to fear there, except for a couple of rusty nails?”

 

He had a sneaky feeling that the look in L's eyes could now be called 'stubborn'.

 

“You can't be serious,” Light groaned. “Are you saying that you, the High Priest of Logic, St. L the Unbeliever, are scared of _ghosts_? There _are_ no such things!”

 

L was glaring at him defensively. “Until recently I didn't believe that Shinigami, murdering notebooks, or people foolish enough to attempt a relationship with me exist either, but now I have a ghastly spirit loitering around in my skyscraper, a lethal notebook locked up in my vault and a serial killer stealing kisses from me every time I let my guard down for a second”, he countered, and Light had to concede the point. “If you ask me, it is only a matter of time until the twins from the Old Applegate House are knocking at my window.”

 

“The twins?”

 

“The Applegate House was an orphanage once, before Wammy's House was established. The twins are said to have been killed during a chemistry lesson.” L shrugged his bony shoulders and turned back to his laptop in a rather decisive way. “We are not going, and that will be my last word on the matter.”

 

\---

 

“Is everyone ready? Cellphones? Flashlights? Water bottles? Gloves? Scarves?”

 

The seven oldest kids at Wammy's House nodded mutely, watching their fearless leader in awe. Tonight, the role of said fearless leader was performed by one Light Yagami, instead of the gloomy figure standing next to him, as far as the chain between their wrists allowed.

 

“Good.” Light beamed at them. “Now, this is your last chance to back off. I'm definitely not forcing anyone there -”

 

“... Except for me...”

 

“... Except for L, so if you suddenly remembered something else you intended to do tonight -”

 

“Sleeping is a very good option for growing boys and girls,” L added helpfully.

 

Light cocked an eyebrow at him. “You are hardly setting a perfect example for them.”

 

“On the contrary, I am an excellent example of what happens if you don't get enough sleep as a teenager.” The word _smug_ was written all over the small twitch of L's lips. “You'll become small, skinny and sickly pale.”

 

Apparently everyone was ready and willing to go all the way – or at least all the way until something scary happened, at which point they would expect Light to save them heroically, and should he fail, sacrifice him to the ghosts and run off while the evil spirits devoured him, or whatever evil spirits did. The chain was temporarily removed; Light got dressed for going out like the rest of the Applegate Investigation Team, battled a black coat and a pair of blue mittens on L as well, and finally allowed the man to secure the handcuffs again.

 

“Let's get going, then!”

 

And so they got going. Mello looked like he was enjoying himself, dressed completely in black, skipping through the snowy scenery towards the Old Applegate House, waving his flashlight around and killing time by scaring the other kids, until Matt accidentally stumbled over, startled by the blond's sudden attack, and rolled a good ten meters down the hill. After helping his redheaded friend up Mello was a little more subdued.

 

That didn't, however, stop him from bullying the others. “I wonder how the twins will look,” he mused in a pleasant chit-chat voice. “I heard they died in an accident during a chemistry lesson, so maybe they'll be all mutated... or maybe they'll look like melted candles -”

 

“Mello, _eww_ ,” Matt said in a very determined tone, while some of the others started to look rather uncomfortable. “That's just disgusting.”

 

“There will be no mutated or melted things appearing before us tonight,” Light intervened scornfully, “You're not going to see a single ghost, not even the tiniest little spirit of a brutally murdered fly, because there are no such things.”

 

“Light-kun is right,” L said sardonically. “Believing in ghosts is like claiming that you own a magical notebook or that you have a pet monster that only eats apples. Don't be ridiculous.” The detective almost toppled over because of the punch Light's elbow delivered to his ribs.

 

Mello's grin just widened and turned, if possible, even more wicked. “Fine, let's not talk about the twins. But how about that old witch who lead the place? Mrs. Applegate? They say the old hag was like the Devil herself... I wonder if she still wanders the rooms of her orphanage, trying to catch the kids out of bed...”

 

A blonde girl around Near's age – Light believed her name was Linda – shuddered at the thought. “That's even more disturbing, Mello, stop it.”

 

“Why does Mello personify the Devil as a female?” L asked, more to prevent the boy from scaring the others (and the detective himself) than out of any real interest.

 

Mello shrugged. “No real reason. There's something purely evil about girls, so it would make sense.”

 

“Mello's just scared of girls,” another girl – Dana, if Light's memory served him right – drawled.

 

“That would be because all the girls that are interested in him tend to be lesbian and take him for a girl,” Near muttered.

 

“Shut it, Near!” Mello's flashlight brushed against the boy's white locks, missing his head only by millimeters. “You're just scared to death already. Hey Matt, five pounds say Near will scream like a baby when he sees the first ghouls crawling towards him!”

 

Matt chuckled and Near rolled his eyes. “Ten pounds say the ghosts will be the ones screaming and running at the sight of Near,” the redhead grinned. “I swear he rolled in some extra flour today to appear whiter.”

 

“Oh, calamity, I am caught,” Near deadpanned. “My nefarious plan to infiltrate the ghost society and becoming their king has been revealed.” He blinked his dark eyes and quirked a wicked little smile at Mello. “But fear not, Mello, you won't have to be alone while I reign over my spirit kingdom – I'll send the ghost of Mrs. Applegate to keep you company.”

 

Mello, who had been picking up his flashlight from where it had rolled, stopped short and visibly shivered at the thought; he returned close to Matt, L and Light rather hastily. “The scary thing is I can actually imagine him doing that,” he murmured to Matt.

 

It was around then that Light started to wonder if this had been such an excellent idea after all.

 

The sight that met their eyes when they walked around the crumbled wall circling the yard of the Applegate House did little to ease the second thoughts he was starting to have. It was true that Light didn't believe in ghosts, but if one place in this world was haunted, it was bound to be this one. The house was a wreck; most of the windows were broken, glowering at them with all their black hostility, the chimney had crumbled decades ago, and the roof was indented and littered with holes. What had once been an organized garden had become a veritable jungle, which had then reigned supreme in the absence of human intervention. The vines had crawled all the way up the wall, finding their way through broken windows and cracks in the wall. It looked like bats, glowing yellow and red eyes, otherworldly howling and shrieks of terror might be on schedule any minute now.

 

There was even a little cloud with a good sense of drama that chose this very moment to unveil the half-moon and allow the pale silvery light flood over the eerily silent view, deepening the shadows behind the broken windows.

 

“Light-kun, we should take off the chain before we go in,” L said in monotone. He was probably pressing his nails into his palms inside the mittens to keep his voice even. “It would be dangerous to go in wearing it. Who knows what it might catch.”

 

Light's subconscious was quick to supply him with a translation: “ _I want you to hold my hand._ And _it's dangerous. But mostly the hand-holding._ ”

 

“You're right, of course,” he admitted readily, telling himself that it was definitely because L had just initiated non-violent physical contact for the first time and not because he kind of wanted someone to hold his hand, too. He held out his wrist to be freed. The detective removed the chain with nimble fingers, the key appearing and disappearing into his clothes too quickly to be seen. Another problem arose immediately after: where to put the chain. L refused to leave it here (“For anyone to take! With my fingerprints all over it!”), but it was quite long and heavy to carry around...

 

“Oh, I'll take it,” Mello said finally, taking the chain and wrapping it around his narrow hips. Light counted five times it reached around him and gave up, deciding that from the next morning on, the blond would be on a healthier diet to gain some much-needed weight. It was probably too late to make L eat properly, but he might still be able to save Mello.

 

“Looks good on you,” Matt noted, giving an appreciative thumbs-up as the blond struck a pose to show off his new accessory.

 

“I know, I could make this into a regular style.” Mello winked and then smirked in a slightly disturbing way. “Besides, this chain has been on L for months. He ate, slept, showered and stuff wearing it, which means I'm now one step closer to him than Near.”

 

Near blinked. L frowned. “That's a little creepy, even by my standards,” the detective murmured while his mitten-clad hand sought blindly for Light's behind his back.

 

The younger man grinned as he took L's hand in his. Oh, this was just too good to resist... “Oh,” he sighed dramatically, resting his chin on L’s shoulder in a deliberate display of affection and intimacy, just loud enough to be heard by everyone, but low enough to indicate that he was speaking to L. “If he only knew all the things we did with that chain...”

 

The raven-haired man cringed at the implication; from the corner of his eye, Light could see Mello snatch his fingers away from the chain as though burned, looking like he was now trying to come up with a way to untangle it from his hips without touching it.

 

Near smiled that quirky little smile of his. “Now, Mello, don't be modest. I think that counts as _two_ whole steps closer to L.”

 

“Near, you are a sick bastard,” Mello growled, swatting the boy with his hand as he marched past him towards the house.

 

“I would love to say that it takes one to know one, but that would be terribly childish and very much unlike me.” Near followed the blond, apparently completely unfazed by the hit that had just been delivered to the back of his head. “However, I would like to point out that I'm not the one wearing a chain previously worn by our brother and his... friend.”

 

Mello snapped around on his heels and opened his mouth to retort, but Light interrupted him. “I believe we came here to investigate the supposedly haunted house, not our mental issues...”

 

“... However many they may be,” L finished under his breath. Light shot a glare at him, and he blinked his wide eyes innocently. “Shall we go, then? It seems that I'm stuck with this no matter what, so I would appreciate getting this over with. My toes are cold already.”

 

The younger man frowned and glanced at the detective's feet, which were, luckily, covered by a familiar pair of tattered sneakers. “No socks?” he ventured, receiving a nod. “L, you're an idiot.” A shrug, this time.

 

Without another word, the two detectives ascended the few stairs to the front door of the house, their seven companions trailing closely behind them. Holding L's hand tightly in his, Light reached out to try the handle; the door was unlocked. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open, grimacing at the smell of decayed wood that greeted them.

 

“Watch your step,” he instructed the others. “Judging by the smell, some of the floor boards might not be able to support your weight.” Mello grumbled something about being called fat, but the Japanese young man ignored him.

 

Lighting his way with a flashlight (Light grimaced; if there was a _light_ at the end of this tunnel of horrible puns, he was willing to bet – no, _beg_ – that it was a train), he entered the house with everyone else on his heels. “Now, was there something special about the ghosts here? Do they appear at a certain hour, or in a certain room? Are we supposed to say something?”

 

To Light's surprise, it was L who answered after a moment of uncomfortable silence. “The stories say that Mrs. Applegate can be encountered anywhere in the house or on its yard, trying to catch one of the orphans wandering about at night... So we either run into her or not.”

 

“We won't, obviously,” Light frowned, slightly peeved that the detective felt the need to inspire the irrational fears of the younger ones.

 

“Then there are the twins,” Dana said quietly. “They say they never left the chemistry classroom, even though their remnants were taken away and buried, of course.”

 

“And then there is that little girl who disappeared,” Near added casually. Something about the boy – maybe the fact that it seemed he was incapable of fear – was plain creepy, but Light was glad to have him with them. At least there was one person – in addition to Light himself, of course – who would stay level-headed and calm if something out of ordinary happened and the others freaked out. Besides, Near seemed to be here more to conduct research on superstitions and alleged ghosts than to conquer his childhood fears – a very reasonable attitude that Light could relate with.

 

Linda shuddered at that. “I had completely forgotten about her! Oh no, I'm not sure I want to be here, after all...” At Light's questioning glance, she explained in a trembling voice, “It's said that one night, the children were telling each other ghost stories, and one girl – we don't even know her name – was challenged to stand in front of the mirror in a bathroom in the middle of the night and say 'Bloody Mary' three times.”

 

At first, Light could only think of the drink, but then a memory surfaced – he had heard of this myth sometime while studying English. “Ah, yes, I know the story about Bloody Mary.”

 

“Not this one,” Mello said suddenly, and even under the yellowish light of their flashlights, he appeared very, very pale. “There are different versions of what happens if you call for Bloody Mary, but in this one, the girl was never found. The bathroom had no windows or other ways out, except for the door, which was locked. When the girl hadn't come out until morning, they broke into the bathroom, only to find that she wasn't there. They say that she can sometimes be seen on the mirrors or other reflecting surfaces here, calling for help...”

 

Light scoffed to cover a small shudder. Damn, that boy could be convincing! “Well, if we see her, we'll help her.” The fingers of his left hand were tingling; he realized with some surprise that it was because L had squeezed them so hard that for a moment, blood had stopped circulating in them.

 

“Light-kun,” the raven-haired man murmured, “whether or not the story is true, the historical facts remain: the girl did go missing soon after arriving here, and not long after that, the leader of the house, Mrs. Applegate, lost her mind. One morning, the children woke up to her smashing mirrors and windows with a fire poker, beating everyone who tried to stop her or got in her way, child or adult, killing some of them in the process.”

 

The auburn-haired man felt a chill run down his spine. This wasn't a ghost story – this was history. It was disgusting. It was exactly what Kira was fighting against...  How long ago had this happened? Twenty years? Forty? Well, since they were talking about the woman's ghost, she had to be dead, anyway. A pity, really; Light would have rather enjoyed writing down her name... “What happened?” he asked with dry lips.

 

“She was detained and spent the rest of her life in a mental asylum. She kept telling everyone that she couldn't stand seeing that little girl looking at her from every reflecting surface, or the voices of the long dead children that wandered the corridors and rooms of her house – this was interpreted to mean that during the forty-two years this orphanage was operating, there had been a number of covered-up tragedies in addition to this, and Mrs. Applegate was finally driven mad by some sort of guilt-induced paranoia.” Was it just Light's imagination, or had L edged closer to him? “She died a year after she was captured – standing in front of a mirror.”

 

An oppressing silenced followed the man's words – the kind of silence that told Light the story wasn't done yet.

 

When no one said anything, Light had to break it. He cleared his throat, feeling like he had swallowed a handful of flour. “W-what... what did she die of?” he asked, coughing.

 

L smiled darkly. Near tilted his head and looked at Light with a serene look in his wide, storm-cloud gray eyes, a tiny smirk playing on his lips while his index finger toyed with his hair. “Isn't it obvious? A heart attack, or course.” He paused. “Maybe Kira has been around for longer than we thought.”

 


	9. Drealistic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Abuse of italics, horrid puns, of which a significant portion is related to Light’s name, spooky moments, a short emofest, and general weirdness. Oh dear god, there were way too many opportunities to abuse Light's name. So many, in fact, that it wasn't even funny.
> 
> “Drealistic” is borrowed from the band that my friend used to play in during high school, Dreality. I thought a mixture of dream and reality was more than suitable for this chapter.

Chapter 9

**Drealistic**

 

Reality, as Light Yagami had discovered during the last thirty minutes, was a whimsical and unreliable thing. It had apparently stopped existing the moment he had stepped into the Old Applegate House.

 

Kind of like cell phone reception, really.

 

Because naturally, that had ceased to exist thirty minutes ago as well.

 

It was sometime after silencing Mello, who saw it fit to tell everyone about the book he had read about mysterious auras lingering over some houses in which gory tragedies had taken place, effectively disturbing satellites, radars and phone connections - “Like Bermuda!” - that Light was beginning to have second thoughts about the whole Raiding the Applegate House Operation. Well, third thoughts, since he’d already started to reconsider upon seeing the house.

 

“Look, we're not exactly in the middle of Tokyo right now, so it's no wonder there's no reception, okay?” he reminded the others, stressing his words with a deep frown thrown into the general direction of Mello.

 

The younger ones muttered something and nodded, looking slightly relieved. L nudged Light by his hand and leaned closer to whisper into his ear. After recovering from the pleasant shock of feeling the detective's warm breath ghosting (… _of course_ it would _ghost_...) against the shell of his ear, so close to him that the raven-black locks were brushing against his neck, Light had to dig the man's actual message from his memory, for it had whistled past his preoccupied mind while he had been enjoying the closeness.

 

“... have our own cell tower at Wammy's House just two kilometers from here, just in case. The reception should be perfectly fine,” was what L had said, apparently.

 

Light was immensely grateful that the eccentric man had thought to keep the information to just the two of them.

 

And then Near turned around, toying with his white hair, sweeping the room with a passive glance. “Has anyone seen Matt for a while?” he asked.

 

\---

 

“I can't believe they dumped me!” Matt huffed, one hip jutting outward, left hand resting on the hipbone rather rebelliously, while the other hand employed the flashlight by waving it around.

 

Then he realized he was posing to the empty corridor, and returned into his normal semi-slouch, the typical posture of someone who spent more time with video games than with actual people. Too much time around Mello, he figured.

 

Who had, along with everyone else, _ditched_ him, even though he had _asked_ them to wait while he retied his shoelaces, he thought bitterly. First, the corridor had been full of flashlight-based shadows climbing the walls and whispering voices (and Yay-gami's normal voice asking why they were whispering), and suddenly Matt had become aware that he hadn't heard or seen anything for a while, and by then it had been way too late to find out which way the bastards had gone.

 

“Some friends and brothers and brothers' boyfriends I have,” he grumbled, walking down the hallway to the closest door and trying its handle. It was locked. Well, the others had left him alone, but he was relatively secure in assuming they wouldn't have locked the door to _keep_ him that way, so it was highly unlikely that they had gone that way. Next door, then!

 

After numerous doors, some of them locked and some not, three sets of stairs (one of which lead to a solid wall), and a couple of turns to the right and four to the left, all Matt had accomplished was getting heavily lost.

 

“Oh, snap,” he muttered around the matchstick he had dug from his pockets and started to chew on to calm his admittedly already rather calm nerves.

 

That was when he heard the footsteps.

 

_Clack. Clack. Clack_.

 

Perking up, Matt straightened his back, quickly replacing his relieved smile with a scowl and preparing to give the others an earful of what he thought about ditching one's friends. The footsteps were getting slowly closer and closer, just around the corner now -

 

_Clop. Clop. Clop_.

 

And then Matt realized three things.

 

One: he could hear only _one_ person's footsteps.

 

Two: He should have seen the flashlight shining from around the corner already.

 

Three: No one in the Applegate Strike Force wore shoes that could make such a noise. Boots, tennis shoes, sneakers, yes – but heels?

 

And especially, just one pair of them, walking the dark corridors in the middle of the night without a light (or even _Light_ , for that matter)?

 

The matchstick snapped in half as Matt decided that now was a very good time to be nervous.

 

\---

 

“Alright! Everyone calm down!” Light yelled over the voices of the remaining six orphans, or five, since Near was standing aside with a somewhat disinterested look in his eyes and making absolutely no noise at all.

 

“ _You calm down_!” Mello screeched. The blond had gone into complete hysterics right after Near's question. Apparently, in the grand universe of Wammy's House, Matt was the gravitation that kept Mello from spiraling into the outer space.

 

Light's mental venture to the Wammy Galaxy, with L as the Sun, Matt as the Earth (or at least, _down_ to Earth), Mello as the Moon and Near as Pluto, was interrupted when Moon lunged forward, grasped his collar and lifted him from the floor with strength that should have been completely unknown to someone so skinny.

 

Well, excluding L.

 

“Calm down? CALM DOWN? Matt is missing, having God knows what done to him, and you tell me to calm down!” the blond was screaming, shaking the older one back and forth as though hoping that he might be hiding Matt somewhere in his clothes and the shaking would make him fall out.

 

Ooookay, that was one mental image Light hadn't needed – but luckily, Mello made sure to shake it out of his head as soon as he had unintentionally inserted it there.

 

“Mello, please calm down,” L said suddenly from their side, his free hand touching the blond's arm gently, and Light was promptly dropped back to his feet. Oh, so L was allowed to tell him to calm down and Light wasn't? Where was the justice in this world?

 

Light almost smacked himself in the face after the thought had crossed his mind, while Justice, holding his hand, continued talking to Mello.

 

“Mello, you are in charge for now,” the detective was saying. “Light-kun and I will trace back our tracks and see if we can find Matt. You are staying here. If...” He trailed off; everyone looked at him expectantly, and finally he added slowly, “If Light-kun and I don't return in... fifteen minutes, I want you, Mello, and you, Near, to take everyone else back to Wammy's House without delay.”

 

That sounded so serious. Mello, his face ashy pale and almost expressionless, nodded; Near nodded as well. Dana, Linda, Kyle and Shane huddled together and looked rather frightened.

 

Quickly, Light flashed a smile (and the flashlight, so they would see it). “Don't worry, he's probably just ventured somewhere, imagining that he's in a video game and forgetting that he's here with us. You know how he is.”

 

To his great relief, everyone smiled and even laughed a little at that; Mello's laughter was the loudest and oddly high-pitched, almost hysterical. Thankfully, L realized that this was his cue.

 

“Light-kun's right, there is no need to panic,” he said, his low monotone apparently soothing the children far more than his words; Mello even regained a little color to his face. “The worst that could have happened is that he has stepped through a decayed floorboard and is stuck. We will be back in a moment.”

 

They left the room, and the moment they closed the door behind them, L squeezed Light's hand so hard he could almost hear his finger bones grinding together.

 

“If something happens to the children while we are here, I will bury Kira-kun alive,” he hissed through his teeth, staring straight forward.

 

The God of the New World was silent for a moment, because when L Lawliet spoke in a voice like that, no man, god or beast could afford to ignore him. If anything happened to the children, all of Light’s trump cards and plans would be useless against the other man’s wrath. It was a humbling realization. Finally he replied, his voice low and hard, “Hopefully not before I'm finished with whoever might be responsible for hurting them. Myself excluded, because you just promised to take care of that.”

 

“How does Kira-kun propose to _be finished_ with ghosts, in case _they_ are to be blamed?”

 

“I can kill with a few lines on a piece of paper. I'm sure I can find a way to drag the dead out of their graves to make them suffer the consequences of laying their otherworldly paws on our orphans.”

 

L didn't say anything to that, but Light could sense a faint aura of something like approval radiating from him.

 

That, however, did nothing to bring Matt back. They walked all the way back to the front door, calling the redhead by name and even peeking into the rooms along the corridors to see if he had taken another route, but the goggle-boy remained – stubbornly, if you asked Light – absent. By the time they were trailing the way back to the room they had left Mello and the other kids in, L's hand was shaking in Light's.

 

“Light-kun, wait,” he said, stopping abruptly. “Just... just a moment before we return to the others.”

 

It was dark, excluding the narrow sliver of yellow light that flooded from their only flashlight; since pointing it at L's face was pretty much out of question, Light had to trust his intuition to determine his feelings.

 

For once, it wasn't very hard.

 

Knowing that the man could not and would not appear in front of the children showing the slightest bit of the fear he felt, Light turned the detective gently around and wordlessly pulled him into a hopefully encouraging embrace. L flinched slightly, but didn't struggle or pull away.

 

“It's okay,” Light told him quietly, stroking the older man’s defensively curved back slowly with his free hand. “You're human. You're allowed to feel.”

 

L's fingers, trapped between their chests, curled into his shirt, and, after a moment's hesitation, he rested his forehead on Light's shoulder, his soft hair tickling the younger man's neck and mingling with his auburn locks. “That's exactly the problem, Light-kun,” he murmured. “I'm _not_.”

 

Light blinked. “Human?”

 

“... Allowed to feel.”

 

“What?” Light almost laughed, until the full meaning behind L’s words washed over him. All that effort to appear emotionally handicapped, incapable of human feelings, all the energy the man obviously spent on stomping down his instinctual reactions, on not letting anything show on the surface…

 

His hold on the detective was suddenly protective, angry, almost too tight. “Says who?” he bit.

 

“My teachers,” L replied immediately, “and nurses and mentors and employers. From when I was younger.”

 

Light thought about the warmth of his mother’s arms when she congratulated him on succeeding in something – everything, because frankly, Light Yagami succeeded in whatever he tried – and about the pride evident in his father's smile when he talked about his son. He swallowed and asked, very quietly now, “They told you that?”

 

The detective nodded against his shoulder.

 

“But...” For the first time in his life, Light found himself quite speechless. “I thought that Watari raised you.” And Watari could have never said that, right? _Right_? Not Watari, not the only man in the world that L seemed to respect and recognize as an authority.

 

“I like to think that way. In reality, however...” L surprised him by snuggling even closer. “I don't suppose he knows how exactly my excellent grades came to exist. He was kind, but he was busy. He had an orphanage to run, and he worked on numerous other projects. He’s an inventor, did Light-kun know that? I was not the only child in the orphanage.  In his absence, my teachers took notice of my intelligence and sense of justice, and came up with the concept of a somewhat superhuman detective. Light-kun, I didn't _become_ a detective. I was carefully built into one.”

 

Like one of Near's robots.

 

The flashlight was dropped to the floor to allow for a better hold on the frighteningly still detective; the light flickered shut the moment it hit the floor.  So _this_ was the truth... L, the greatest detective alive, the man Light had once idolized from afar, had never chosen to become one. Someone had taken a clever, awkward little boy and molded him until he thought his only worth lay in his ability to solve a case.

 

“Why are you still a detective?” he asked, if only for the tiny sliver of hope that maybe, just _maybe_ , L had come to enjoy the detective work so much that he would have pursued the career nevertheless. Surely that time was in the past now; surely L, who had several of the world’s heads of states on speed dial on his phone, was more than powerful and wealthy enough to quit, now, if he so wished.

 

He could almost _hear_ L blink his eyes slowly. “Well,” the detective said, sounding oddly confused and lost, as though he didn’t quite comprehend Light’s question, “this is what I do. This is what I'm good at.”

 

And Light could have asked a thousand of questions – weren't there other things L was good at, like painting and comforting children and kicking some Kira ass with that really mean right foot, hadn't he ever even _thought_ about quitting and becoming, oh well, a baker or a politician or a god damn cat walk model for all Light knew and cared, and didn't L really love mysteries even though becoming a detective hadn't been his decision -

 

But really, what was there to ask? L's words had pretty much summed it up, and there was nothing Light could offer but for seven feebly whispered words: “This is what you're the _best_ at.”

 

Quickly, before the sadness suddenly making itself at home somewhere in the general area of his heart could get too comfortable, he brushed a quick kiss on the man’s lips – or the corner of them, since aiming in the dark was not one of Light Yagami's many talents – and announced cheerfully, “Alright! Let's go find Matt and bring him to Justice for disappearing on us!”

 

For a few scary seconds his heart seemed to beat unnaturally loud, but then L spoke, and Light had never been this relieved to hear a wry smile in someone's voice. “Is Light-kun talking about me or Vice Justice Mello?”

 

Crouching to search for the flashlight, the younger man faked a shocked tone. “You, of course! I happen to _like_ Matt, despite the goggles, and handing him over to Vice Justice Mello after he pulled a stunt like this would be like... like... like offering you cake!”

 

“It would get Light-kun on Mello's good side?”

 

“It would get Matt-kun on Life's bad side!”

 

“Then that was a bad metaphor,” L decided. “If someone gave me cake right now, I would love and cherish them, and especially the cake, for the rest of my life.”

 

Silently mourning for his lack of insight for not bringing cake (you know, just in case that L happened to feel inclined to vow his undying love for whoever offered him a snack), Light tapped the floor with his hands, moving them around until the flashlight hit the tips of his fingers. “I referred to Matt as the cake. You'd _eat_ him - it. You'd eat _it_. … The cake. That's what I meant by saying that handing Matt over to Mello would be like giving you cake.”

 

“Now, Light-kun, you may think whatever you like about my brothers, but please refrain from calling one of them a cannibal. Mello wouldn't _eat_ him.”

 

“Not without chocolate syrup,” Light admitted.

 

For a moment, the hallway was silent with a capital S.

 

“I am no longer sure what we're talking about,” L murmured after a while.

 

To his very great relief, Light, ever the fast thinker, had already thought of an appropriate change of topic. “L, it would seem that we broke the flashlight, and before you can terrorize my ears with a pun, no, bright as I may be, I cannot light our way. So we are... officially in the dark, now.”

 

“Oh.” L was probably blinking owlishly again. Maybe he should have his eyes checked... “Well, I suppose we'd better start trailing our way back before Mello loses the last bits of his metaphorical rice chocolate bar and breaks out of the house.”

 

The way back took much more time than they had anticipated; holding each other by hand, feeling for the wall with the other one, they crept along the hallway to the direction they were fairly sure they had come from. It was slow, and despite their usual grace, they kept stumbling over each other’s feet and protruding floorboards.

 

“Light-kun!” L huffed as he felt a hot, moist breath whisper against his ear, tickling his skin and making his stomach perform a weird movement that should have been reserved exclusively for ballerinas. “I don't think now is the -”

 

“Mello! _Mello_!” a faint voice yelled somewhere at the other end of the hallway, accompanied by several sets of rapidly moving footsteps, and all previous thoughts retreated to the back of the detective's mind.

 

“... Was that...?” Light asked, stunned.

 

L blinked. Again. “Well, I haven't heard him yell much, but did sound an awful lot like...”

 

\---

 

“Near!” Dana was screaming behind him, stumbling in the dark to grab his white sleeve. “You can't go, too! L said you two were in charge!”

 

The boy avoided her wildly flailing hands with no difficulty – after all, he was the one with the flashlight – and skidded to a halt just out of the room, waving the light around to determine which way the fool of a blond had gone. Naturally, the hallway continued in two ways from here: the corridor they had come from, and a narrow staircase on his left.

 

Rash, personally performed actions were not Near's forte, but rarely surfacing solidarity, irresponsible choices made for the sake of his goal and a certain level of indifference towards people he didn't care about were. Matt had disappeared, Mello had run off with a speed (and an expression) that gave reason to wonder if he was possessed, and L had been gone for thirteen seconds too long, already. The remaining four would be just fine if they stayed in that room.

 

And then, the light of his flashlight met with the Light of L's life (if you believed what the younger man liked to imply), who yelped and shielded his eyes with the hand that wasn't holding L's.

 

Near had never been happier to see someone he barely even knew.

 

“The others are still in the room,” he informed them quickly, not bothering with useless background stories. “Mello flipped, and since you didn't meet him on the way back, he must have gone upstairs.”

 

Even as he turned and started taking the stairs two at a time, he could see L and Light exchange a glance from the corner of his eye. He found it curious that the two, who had only met six or seven months ago, seemed to be able to have long conversations in one glance – like Mello and Matt could, after growing up together for years and years. Well, he supposed that inhabiting the same chain for months could do that to people...

 

By the time Near reached the second floor, someone was already running after him – alone – and even when he turned to see who it was, he knew what it meant: they had let go of each other’s hands -

 

L had left his Kira suspect unsupervised.

 

“Wait, Near!” Light called, almost crashing into the white-haired boy in the dark. “I'm coming with you. L will take care of the others.”

 

This time, it was Near who blinked slowly.

 

L had left his Kira suspect – no, _Kira himself_ – unsupervised... so that Near wouldn't have to go search for Mello alone...? More importantly, L had trusted Kira with not one but two of his precious heirs?

 

It was then that Near finally realized that bringing Light to the UK had not been an elaborate plot to finally catch Kira; that this was unlikely to end in arrest at all. Having calculated days ago that the only person L would chain himself to during his widely publicized Kira-hunt would be his prime suspect, and assumed that the only reason he would allow said prime suspect in his childhood home and safe haven was to show vulnerability to trick the other man into slipping, he now had to re-evaluate everything he had heard and seen between the two since their arrival.

 

What if, theoretically, impossibly, L was no longer trying to catch Kira? What if – completely hypothetically – L had already caught him, was already a hundred percent certain, and wasn’t planning to do anything about it?

 

When he didn't move, Light pried the flashlight gently from his white fingers and ruffled his hair. “Come on! Let's go find the hell raiser. And Mattrix, too, preferably.”

 

Near was never dumbstruck. Then again, no one ever ruffled his hair – not even L, who had long ago settled for merely petting his head a little awkwardly when the situation arose.

 

After another blink, he came to the conclusion that this was all, somehow, Mello's fault, and followed the light (and Light). It was time to find the idiot and -

 

\---

 

“... Kick his ass to the next damn galaxy!” Mello was seething to himself as he stomped from one room to another, searching every corner and closet, peeking under the beds and throwing the dusty blankets off everything that was big enough to be Matt (though he had yet to justify to himself why the redhead would hide under beds or dusty blankets in a creaky old house). “Then we'll see how well he'll fare against Darth Vader all by himself!”

 

Abandoned children? What abandoned children? He'd left Near in charge. The boy would surely take care of everything – and besides, what had L said to them? If the detectives didn't return in fifteen minutes, they were to... lead everyone back to Wammy's House, right?

 

Matt was part of everyone, wasn't he?

 

And besides, he had to come back so Mello could officially ignore him for disappearing on him!

 

And because Mello knew that Matt tended to get lost in his thoughts, and in big, scary houses where ghosts and spirits resided, it was his duty to find the be-goggled hero and offer him some cold shoulder to make him realize that he had just committed a cardinal sin.

 

After all, a friend in need was...

 

\---

 

“... A friend indeed!” Linda huffed, crossing her arms and scowling at the darkness that had swallowed Near, Light and their flashlight just seconds ago. “I can't believe he ditched us for _Mello_!”

 

“Friendship is rarely logical,” L responded calmly and reassuringly from the darkness above her head. “Now, does anyone have a flashlight left?” Dana, Linda, Kyle and Shane shook their heads, then realized that no one could see it, and voiced their message. “... Unsurprisingly. Fine, then, our next mission is to find candles or maybe a lantern of some kind...”

 

So they searched. Any ordinary group with one twenty-five-year-old nerd and four preteens would have taken forever and five minutes to find anything to light their way, but, of course, they weren't exactly ordinary.

 

And so it was that after Shane, a young, slightly autistic boy with eidetic memory, had inspected his memory of what the room had looked like while they had still had the flashlights, for nine seconds, he said, “Candles on the shelf.”

 

L asked, “Which shelf?”, and before the question mark had had time to settle in the ears of the children, Shane had rattled off a Morse-like “Left. Window. High.”

 

L recalled the shelf above the window, and now that Shane said it, he remembered the candles too, barely showing from their point of view. Nodding to himself, he fumbled his way to the window, stepped very cautiously onto a chair that Dana had found for him, and straightened his back to reach up. His spine protested feebly while his fingertips searched the shelf and met with two long candles and – oh yes, a box of matches!

 

“Finally,” he murmured, “things are starting to...”

 

\---

 

“... Get completely out of hand!” Light muttered under his breath. “This is ridiculous! My plans _never_ fail like this!”

 

“And? What, exactly, were your plans?” Near intruded his monologue. “Did you hope L would get scared so you could comfort him? Perhaps grope him a little in the dark?”

 

Light flinched; he had completely forgotten about the little ghost – err, boy – trailing after him like a... no, there was no way he could compare Near to a lost puppy. Perhaps a determined ranger poodle that never got lost? Or a chihuahua? A ninja chihuahua with a reputation that scared the dead, probably with a pair of nunchaku, a few throwing stars and an M-16 hidden under his clothes, not to mention the compulsory two knives stuffed into his boots – err, tennis shoes?

 

This should have been proof enough that Light had already realized that Near was absolutely nothing like his cute and fluffy appearance.

 

“You are talking about things you don't understand,” he scoffed, in his haste making the mistake of talking to the boy like one might talk to a normal child of his age.

 

“I disagree,” Near disagreed. “I'm far more aware of the implications of what I just said than I'm comfortable with.”

 

With a scowl, Light decided that unfortunately, this was probably true.

 

“Well?” the boy asked, a slow smirk spreading on his pale lips. “ _Was_ that your plan? Molesting our poor inexperienced brother under the cover of comforting him and protecting him from ghosts? You got rather defensive there.”

 

Light blinked. “I'm sorry, I wasn't aware I was talking to Mello. Where's Near?”

 

The white-haired boy lifted one eyebrow. “I'm not sure if that was a compliment or not, but... I _did_ grow up with him.”

 

Yes, Light supposed he had. What had the blond been thinking, anyway, dashing off like that? L had trusted him with the younger ones' lives! Not that anyone was in peril here, Light thought hastily – what could be dangerous in an old, dark house? Cannibal moths hiding in the closets?

 

And besides, wouldn't cannibal moths eat... moths?

 

It suddenly occurred to him that while he had been busy considering the eating habits and possible cannibalism of moths, he had completely neglected to answer Near’s question. The boy would draw completely unfounded conclusions! Like Light would have ever done something as disgraceful as accidentally locking himself up in a dark bedroom with L, forgetting to bring a flashlight along, and just maybe, possibly, offering the distraught detective some comfort…

 

Not that Light had given it any thought.

 

He whipped around to tell this to Near.

 

Unfortunately, the boy was -

 

\---

 

“Gone?” L blinked. “Are you telling me that Kyle is absent?”

 

“Yes, L, very much absent,” Linda confirmed.

 

The detective was silent for a moment. Seven children and two adults had entered the building together, and here he was – with just _three_ children. Three were wandering in the house on their own, one was hopefully still accompanied by Light.

 

They were _scattered_.

 

He frowned and turned back. “Come, children. He must have...”

 

\---

 

“... Turned the wrong way...” Near muttered to himself. “Stupid genius.”

 

Sighing, the boy started again, idly wondering how it was possible that he had managed to lose Light when the man had their only flashlight – logically, he should have definitely noticed the light dimming gradually before it disappeared completely – but then again, he was starting to suspect that the house was playing tricks on them.

 

If it played tricks, it might as well do treats.

 

And if he found the treats, he'd certainly find L and probably Mello. Light, too, seemed to have a thing for tea and coffee, so maybe he'd be there as well. And Matt, well, Matt was always where Mello was...

 

Shaking his head, the white-haired boy threw one last vengeful thought in the general direction of Light, and resumed on his journey, murmuring under his breath, “L has the worst taste in men... Murderers, psychopaths, flashlight thieves...”

 

\---

 

“... And back-stabbing bastards who don't give a _damn_ about their friends' feelings!” Mello declared to the patiently listening suit of armor leaning against the wall. The blond shook his fist at it to emphasize his point. “Fine! Like I even _want_ to find that hell-spawn of a jerk! I mean, he's got _red hair_! I swear, he's probably a _demon_ in disguise, sent here for the sole purpose of annoying the hell out of me! Just like... just like _Light_! I wonder what his parents were smoking when they named him...”

 

He paused mid-rant when he heard someone call his name. “Mello?”

 

“Matt?!” he yelled, immediately forgetting his new faithful metallic friend, and whirling around to wave the flashlight wildly around to find the source of the voice.

 

“No, actually it's -”

 

\---

 

“Near!” Light shouted at the top of his lungs. “Shit! I can't believe I lost him, too! L will bury me alive!”

 

Probably in several places, his mind supplied helpfully.

 

Groaning, the young man got back to the seemingly never-ending quest to find any of the missing persons. Come to think of it, he had managed to lose all three of L's heirs – and brothers. Good news to Kira, but then again, Kira would meet an untimely end along with Light the moment L decided to express his wrath. Notes and names be damned; Light was very much aware that L was more than capable of making his earlier threats come true.

 

Because L had had much more practice at playing god than Light had...

 

“If L _doesn't_ bite my head off,” he vowed to himself, “I'm going to kiss him until he can't breathe and -”

 

\---

 

“... Tell him, in front of everyone if necessary, that I love him to death,” Matt mumbled into his hands and knees, which was where he had hidden his face, sitting under the stairs and pretending to be as small and unnoticeable as possible, trying to forget that he had no idea how he had gotten here. “... I swear, if I make it out alive, I'm going to...”

 

“ _Who_ do you luff to deaf?” a young, nosy voice inquired right next to his ear.

 

Matt shrieked and tried to jump up and scramble away from the child-ghost at the same time, before he recognized the voice and realized that it was, in fact, Kyle.

 

“Is it L?” Kyle persisted. “L's not deaf you know. He hears very well. I think he hears it when you open a jar of cookies without permission in the middle of the night while everyone else is sleepin', even though he's in Japan and I'm in England. Is he going deaf?”

 

“Kyle!” Matt gasped, finally recovering from his shock. In a fit of gratitude he threw his arms around the younger boy – funny, the kid was Near's age, and yet they were ten years apart in behavior – and let out a huge sigh of relief. “Thank Zelda, at least some of you are alive!”

 

“We're all alive,” Kyle informed him. “Ghosts aren't.”

 

Alright, Kyle may have been a brilliant math wizard but he certainly lacked on the comforting scared friends field. Then again, Matt was the older one – it was time to get a hold of himself and set an example!

 

“Right,” he said, finding his flashlight, getting onto his feet and putting on a brave face. “Come, Kyle. Let's go -”

 

\---

 

“That way,” Near said blankly.

 

“ _That_ way,” Mello gritted through his teeth.

 

It shouldn't come as a surprise that they were pointing into opposite directions.

 

“Light's that way,” Near started.

 

“Screw Light!” Mello howled. “Matt's... some other way!”

 

“One, eww, I'd rather not, did you have to say that,” Near deadpanned, “and two, since Matt can be anywhere, we should pick a way that will lead us to _someone_. Gathering our troops and attempting the manhunt as one just might bring the lost unit out.”

 

Mello blinked rapidly. “Near, have you ever considered pursuing a military career?”

 

Near stared at him for a moment and glanced briefly at his own small, almost fragile, white form. “Yes, I can definitely see the connection between me and the wardrobe-sized generals with jaws to rival both sharks and gorillas.”

 

“No, I meant…” Mello trailed off and rolled his eyes. “Fine, whatever. Can't take sarcasm, can you... We're going _that_ way.”

 

The blond stomped off, and Near followed, thinking to himself that Mello's ability to take sarcasm was the one that needed practice, and knowing better than to mention that Mello's newest _that way_ was the one the white-haired boy had originally pointed at.

 

Suddenly the blond stopped, causing the smaller boy to crash into his back. “Near,” he said slowly. “There's only two of us here, right?”

 

The younger boy lifted an eyebrow. “Yes, I do believe that you plus I makes two. Why?”

 

“Look there, smart ass,” Mello whispered, pointing a shaking finger at the direction his flashlight was already aimed at.

 

There was a mirror on the wall.

 

It reflected three people instead of two.

 

\---

 

“AAAAAAUUAAAAARRGHH!”

 

Light jolted and skidded to a halt, almost stumbling into the wall. “Was that...?”

 

\---

 

“Mello!” Matt cried, breaking into a run, dragging Kyle, momentarily forgotten, behind by his hand.

 

“Near!” another voice called from behind a corner, and Matt heard footsteps, and then he could see a wavering shadow climbing the wall, growing bigger and bigger, and then the notably smaller and nonthreatening figure of L had sprung into his view, followed by three children.

 

“L!” This time, Matt almost literally cried. Kyle was shoved to Dana as the redhead dashed into L's arms – the man pushed his candle to Shane just before the collision. “You're alright!”

 

L didn't say anything, but the grip he had on him – his fingers were shaking as he held the boy close to his thin, rapidly heaving chest, as all the adrenaline that had been coursing through his veins for the last hour finally gave up – spoke volumes.

 

“But... but, where's Mello? And Near?” Matt was the fifth to blink like an owl. “And Light?”

 

\---

 

When Light got there, his flashlight revealed a sight he had never seen coming.

 

Mello and Near were on the floor, curled up against the wall and huddled together, Near's face hidden into the blond's shoulder and Mello's face buried into the younger one's white locks; their flashlight was lying on the floor. Near had curled into a small ball, and Light could see Mello's arms shake around the smaller boy's shoulders.

 

“What the -” he started.

 

“Please tell them to stop that,” an unfamiliar voice requested.

 

The voice of a small girl.

 

Very, very slowly Light allowed his gaze to glide from the shivering twosome to the source of the voice, which turned out, to his great dismay, to be a mirror.

 

The tiny, pale-faced girl stared back at him and tilted her head in a way that reminded him so much of L that he couldn't help but smile a little. He had sworn that there were no ghosts – but really, there were Shinigami, and murdering notebooks, and people foolish enough to attempt a relationship with L. Why not creepy little girls lurking in the mirrors?

 

“You're smiling. Aren't you scared?” the girl asked.

 

Light wanted to tell the girl that when a monster appears in your room in the middle of the night and declares that you have his murder weapon, you can hardly be freaked out by little girls anymore, but somehow he got a hold of his tongue. The disciples were listening, after all.

 

“Ah... should I be?” he questioned, instead.

 

“I don't think so,” she replied levelly. “And you're an adult, too. Funny. I thought all adults are stupid.” She heaved a deep, disembodied sigh. “I've been trying to tell those two that I'm not going to do anything evil, but the yellow one keeps slamming his hands on his ears and wailing like a banshee so they wouldn't have to listen. Please tell them to stop. I just came to see what all the commotion is about.”

 

“Mello,” Light reproached. “That's very impolite -”

 

Kira was pretty damn close to have a heart attack himself, because in a heartbeat, Mello and Near had sprung up from the floor and hid behind him with stunning speed.

 

“... Well.”

 

He supposed what L had said was true – when you grow up fearing something, it doesn't matter what you're told later, nor how logically you think about it – you're always going to fear it, to some extent.

 

It wasn't like Light had ever stopped being terrified of ants, himself – though that was something L didn't need to know.

 

“I'm sorry if I sound rude,” he said after getting somewhat accustomed to the idea that Mello and Near, who had seemed quite vehemently opposed to him earlier, had now, like very small children, hidden themselves behind him and buried their faces in his shoulder blades, “but would you care telling us how you got into the mirror? We didn’t mean to disturb you or anyone else by coming here; we were merely curious about the ghost stories surrounding this house. You’re the one that called for Bloody Mary, right?”

 

The girl smiled. Her face was round and freckled, and her hair and eyes were light brown. “Yes, I am. I was really scared, because other kids had told me awful stories – eyes getting ripped out and stuff – but when Mary appeared, she didn't look too bad.” She was silent for a moment, tapping her pursed lips with a finger as though contemplating something. “She looked... tired. And lonely. And sad. Which is why she brought me here with her.”

 

Light frowned. “I was told that your body was never found...”

 

“I don't think I'm really dead,” she replied cheerfully. “She brought me here, body and soul. I'm just keeping Mary company. I'm much rather here than there, you know. Mrs. Applegate was _evil_ , and everyone else was always mean to me, pulling my pigtails and all. I tried to tell the headmistress that I wasn't dead but that I wasn't coming back, either, but I think she went a little funny in the head when she saw me in the mirror.”

 

Oh yes she did, Light thought, with a bloody poker. He shook his head; he could hardly blame that on the girl. “And... where exactly is this... _here_? Or rather, what is the place you're in?” Maybe it was something like the Shinigami Realm? Ryuk had implied that it was a separate physical world, a plane of existence where the Shinigami could watch over them. Or maybe even a sort of a portal between it and this world? Were there _other_ dimensions overlapping with this one?

 

The girl shrugged. “I don't know. This seems to be a place where sad people come. I was sad because my parents had just died before I came here. Mary is always sad. There are others, too, and not all of them are human. I'm very good friends with this pretty new guy called Jealous...”

 

Suddenly it all clicked. Dimensions between this world and that of the Shinigami – Jealous, who was not human – Misa's story of how she had gotten the Death Note...

 

“He's really very sad,” the girl said quietly, appearing a little downcast now.

 

Light reached back and grasped one small, white hand in his left hand, and a slender, long-fingered hand in his right one. He felt Near freeze and Mello flinch at his touch. “Don't worry,” he said, smiling softly. “You can tell him that the girl he died to save is... happy now. And that Rem is looking after her. And... so is another god.”

 

“Two gods,” someone whispered right behind him, and the child's curious gaze moved to look at something behind Light; he glanced over his shoulder, trying not to disturb Mello and Near, and saw L, the rest of the children hiding behind him, expressionless as ever but an odd, soft look in his eyes. “Two gods of Justice are guarding her, now.”

 

“Yeah,” Light agreed hoarsely, not sure how much L knew or _how_ he knew, but grateful that he was there and had chosen to speak those words. “That should make Jealous happy.”

 

The girl looked startled for a moment, but the she smiled at them. “Thank you. I’ll tell him. He’ll be so happy to hear that.”

 

\---

 

They were quiet all the way back to the House. Having managed to find every member of their expedition _and_ a ghost and a half (Matt wouldn’t shut up about that steps he’d heard approaching, causing him to flee in such a blind panic that he had virtually no memory of how he had navigated the house without bumping into anyone else and ended up huddled under the stairs – although in Matt’s own version, it had been a tactical retreat, not fleeing), L and Light had quickly agreed that this adventure had been over two hours ago. Shane and Kyle went to bed without any trouble, apparently completely unfazed by the events that had taken place that night. Linda and Dana required a lot more hugs and soothing words from L, but eventually they, too went to sleep, feeling quite content that the world was as it should be, and that L was watching over them.

 

When it was Mello, Matt and Near's turn to head to bed, they glanced at each other, then at Light, and then at L.

 

“Hey, L,” Matt said slowly. “You're not too fond of ghosts, are you?”

 

L _blinked_. “I suppose not.”

 

“You _sure_ you're okay sleeping with no one but Mr. I Talk to Mirrors as your company?” Mello drawled.

 

“Hey, wait just a second, _you_ were the ones who hid -” Light started, but was interrupted by L accidentally kicking him in the shin.

 

“Oh, I'm sorry, Light-kun,” he said, his eyes innocent and wide. “My feet are a bit restless, apparently. As for your question, Mello, I...” He inserted just the right amount of hesitation, bringing his thumb to his lips as though he were uncertain, a slight frown forming above his dark eyes. “I wasn't... going to say anything, but...”

 

“Oh, L,” Matt replied blithely, “we're, like, your _brothers_! You don't even have to ask!”

 

“Yes,” Near chimed in. “If you're uncomfortable sleeping alone – well, alone with _him_ – I think we could be persuaded to keep you company, just for tonight.”

 

L's lips curled slightly at the corners. “Oh well... if it's fine by you, then I suppose... Light-kun?”

 

Of course, you didn't become Kira if you weren't sharp enough to catch on _that_ long ago. “Why, I wouldn't even think of resisting,” Light assured them smoothly. “As a matter of fact, I'm a bit shaken myself. The more the merrier, right?”

 

“He's actually a very sensible guy,” Mello decided, then flashed a smile at L. “Alrighty! We'll be in your room in five minutes! Just let us change.”

 

L and Light were careful to let the amusement show on their faces only when they were alone in their room. Even then, they merely glanced at each other, chuckled slightly, and set to changing to their pajamas.

 

“Oh, Light-kun,” L recalled suddenly. “I meant to say this earlier, but I didn't have the chance: I'd rather appreciate it if you could avoid insinuating anything of questionable nature in the company of the children. Like that thing in the hallway back at the Applegate House.”

 

Light pulled a t-shirt with Mickey Mouse on it over his head, frowning as he surfaced. “What thing, exactly?”

 

“That...” The detective flushed a delightful rosy pink. “That thing... when you blew into my ear...”

 

Light looked blank. “I... did not.” _But it was a damn good idea_.

 

L blanked back. “You did,” he insisted. “You blew into my left ear, I felt it -” He stopped short, having realized the same thing as Light.

 

The younger man had been on his _right_ side.

 

For a full minute, they stared at each other in silence. Then L cracked a little smile, a slightly wild look in his wide eyes. “Is Light-kun thinking what I'm thinking?”

 

“If you're thinking, 'let's go to sleep and pretend this night never happened', then yes, I'd say we're thinking along the same lines,” Light replied immediately.

 

L nodded frantically. For once, sleep sounded like the best thing in the world.

 


	10. Strange Things

Chapter 10

**Strange Things**

 

It was the second time that Light woke up to find their bed more crowded than usual.

 

The first thing that met his eyes was a fluffy mess of white hair; Near was curled up between them, facing L. Light pondered briefly about the symbolism of curling up to sleep between a serial killer and the world's best detective, but kicked the thought out of his still foggy mind as soon as he realized that he had referred to himself as a serial killer.

 

“Morning, Light-kun,” L murmured, shifting so that he could peer at Light over Near's head.

 

Light smiled sleepily. “How do you _do_ that? Know instantly when I wake up?”

 

“Practice is what makes you perfect,” the detective whispered; Light could only see his eyes, but he could hear a small smile. “Is Matt on that side of the bed or has he gotten up already?”

 

“You don't know?”

 

“I did sleep tonight, Light-kun.”

 

Light closed his eyes for a moment, feeling far too comfortable to crawl into the world of the living just yet. Something warm was pressed up against his back; he could feel a protruding spine touching the small of his back. “Judging by your wording, I believe you have Mello there. If that's the case, I have either Matt or a skinny, bony alien hiding behind me.”

 

“'M n' 'n 'lien,” the redhead faxed straight from the land of Nod; the boy moved a bit, snuggling more comfortably into his pillow and apparently falling back asleep.

 

“Based on the evidence collected, I have concluded that the creature behind me his, indeed, Matt,” Light decided to tell L, just in case the man hadn't realized it yet. “Which is a huge relief, because I don't think I'm quite ready to deal with an alien in our bed at this hour, whatever the hour is.”

 

“Mornings,” L mused, “do strange things to your sense of humor.”

 

“You,” Light shot back, “do strange things to all my senses.”

 

Something moved on the other side of the bed; L glanced over his shoulder, which apparently was where Mello resided. An arm rose and fell – either the boy had attempted to reach for Matt or had just intentionally wrapped his arm around L's midriff to keep himself from falling off the bed. “... Ma', you traitor,” the blond slurred through a mouthful of L's cotton shirt, “what you doin' on tha' side o' bed? You switchin' to Light's camp?”

 

“Ouch,” Light admitted under his breath, and L's eyes twinkled over Near's white hair in quiet amusement.

 

Matt, however, was too comfortably asleep to hear his whining companion, so Light had to take the role of a messenger. “Hey, Matt-lien,” he called, nudging the boy gently with his elbow. “Mello-dator is missing you.”

 

Matt glued himself to the wall, trying to crawl away from his prodding elbow, murmured something and drifted back to his dreams.

 

“Light-kun's puns are awful,” L judged.

 

“I know,” Light sighed with the air of someone who was never enough no matter how much he tried. For some reason, the expression didn't suit him very well. “It's the curse of my name; I'm plagued by horrible puns no matter where I go. But luckily,” he added, grinning a little and propping himself up into a half-sitting position, “my existence is _lightened_ by yours, now.”

 

L eyed him with slightly wary eyes as he bent over Near to cup the detective's face in his hand. “I'm afraid I failed to wish you a good morning earlier. Let me try this again: good morning, L,” he said, his smile widening as he saw the corners of L's lips twitch as well.

 

His own lips were only millimeters away from L's when three things happened simultaneously: Mello twitched and tightened his grip on L, effectively pulling him away; Matt turned around and managed to accidentally kick Light in the shin and hit him with his elbow at the same time; and Near performed a very innocent-looking morning stretch, almost punching Light's teeth out in the process.

 

L chuckled, and his eyes expressed a hint of annoyance and a great amount of mirth. The mixture was so adorable that Light couldn't help but laugh as he sat back up, rubbing his sore chin. “And to think that I almost believed you were asleep, Near...”

 

The boy opened his eyes, blinking blearily, and faked a confused look at him. “I apologize – did I hit you? I'm _terribly_ sorry.”

 

“Near, I just might like you after all,” Mello declared into L's shirt.

 

“No morning sex in our company,” Matt chided them, all sleepiness suddenly gone – either because he had been faking all the time, or because the possibility that the two adults might see it fit to make out right here and now had shocked him out of the La La Land. “Or noon sex, or afternoon sex, or evening sex, or -”

 

“- privacy -” Near added quietly.

 

“... or midnight sex, or five-in-the-morning sex, or – actually, no pre-marriage sex either, because we certainly didn't raise L to be the kind of brother who sets a bad example. Honestly. Some role models you are...”

 

“No, we raised him to be the kind of a guy who is influenced by the bad example set by people ten years younger than him...” Mello muttered.

 

Light listened, mouth wide open. Was he really getting the Talk from these three miniature Ls? _Seriously_? “Now listen up, kids, I have absolutely no intention to ever perform anything of sexual nature in front of your greedy eyes in _any_ shape, way or form -”

 

“Did Light-kun know,” L interrupted him suddenly, looking thoughtful, “that when Matt was little, he would always steal my stuffed panda when he thought I wasn't looking?”

 

Light, Mello and Near fell silent. Matt's silence was the kind that almost screamed.

 

“I once asked him why he did that,” L mused. “He said it was because it looked like me, and since I never slept, he had the panda sleep next to him. He said it protected him from all kinds of dangerous things – ghosts, spiders, bullets, Barbies, Mello...”

 

“You were _scared_ of me?” Mello sounded hurt. “I was your roommate! I still am! And I will be until we're fifty or something! Hell, until we're _hundred_! No, I'll even make sure we're _buried_ side by side! You'll never get rid of me! Just _try_ and keep me away with a stupid panda!”

 

Matt, whose face now matched his hair, shot a glare at L, then at Mello and finally told Light, “ _I_ think I have all the reasons in the world to be scared of him...”

 

“Just you wait,” Mello threatened. “One day, you're going to wake up to find out that I've stolen your dentures from your nightstand!”

 

Light tried to imagine that: a 100-year-old Mello speeding the corridors of a retirement home in a wheelchair, cackling madly and snapping a set of fake teeth at the poor nurses that crossed his way. It was frighteningly easy.

 

Mello would never need a Death Note to cause heart attacks, that was for sure...

 

“Oh, and Mello,” L continued in an alarmingly sweet voice (yet magically managing to keep his monotone at the same time), “do you remember how you tried to come up with a completely new language so you could teach it to me and Matt and no one else would be able to understand what we said?”

 

Mello blinked.

 

“You abandoned the idea, I think, when you tried to teach me the words you thought were new, and I told you what they meant in some other languages... You managed to form sentences like 'I'm a yellow beaver' and 'Rubber ducks and bears like skiing', if memory serves...” L blinked back innocently, a little smile on his lips.

 

“'I'm a yellow beaver'?” Matt snorted, now notably closer to his normal skin color, while Mello had gone quite pale. “What was that supposed to mean?”

 

“I believe,” L replied serenely, “that it was Mellish for 'Near is stupid'.”

 

That was so weird and so cute that Light had to bite his lip to not laugh.

 

“That,” Mello started in a slightly shaking voice, “was completely unnecessary -”

 

“And Near,” L continued, making a point of gazing into emptiness with a distant look in his eyes, as if recalling the events, “used to hide his toys and claim that Mello had taken them when he wanted to get Mello in trouble...”

 

“ _Oh no you didn't_!”

 

“Oh,” Near said, “I suppose I may have done that a few times. When I was young and immature.”

 

Light did _not_ want to know what Near did to get Mello into trouble (not that the blond needed any help...) now that he was, what, twelve, and thus, no longer young and immature. And what about when he'd be _twenty_?

 

Matt snickered. “You actually never wondered why they were blaming you for stealing his toys when you hadn't even touched them?”

 

“Oh, come on,” Mello scoffed. “Everything here is blamed on me. A broken window? You know, Mello was playing football earlier today... Cookies eaten without permission? Can't have been anyone but Mello. Toys disappearing? Alright, let's raid Mello's room. Socks gone missing? I swear, it must be Mello, because he'd definitely want to use countless of mismatched socks of various sizes and colors in his evil plans...”

 

“I think,” Near changed the subject suddenly, “that the reason L decided to remind us of our earlier epic adventures is that he tried to make us so uncomfortable that we would leave.” He smiled calmly at the detective. “Isn't that right?”

 

L formed a tiny pout. “Yes, but my plan seems to have backfired.”

 

“ _Mine_ won't,” Light promised, grinning suddenly. L wanted to make the kids leave – L wanted to be _alone with him_. Well, Light certainly wouldn't deny the joy from the dark-haired man... “If you don't get out now, I'll get so disgustingly sweet and sugary that L's diet pales in comparison.”

 

“I dare to doubt that,” L muttered.

 

“Watch me.” Light flashed his Oscar-winning smile and then proceeded to act the role that would earn him said Oscar.

 

“Good morning, kids,” he all-but cooed, propping himself up on one elbow and reaching out to stroke Near's white locks gently. “Did you sleep well?”

 

Near froze under his hand, and Mello and Matt went very, very still as well.

 

It wasn't the words, or the touch. It was the tone – the warm, caring tone – and the gentleness of the hands. That voice could say, “Where does it hurt, dear?” and “Good night, honey, sweet dreams”, and those hands could brush your hair, and tuck you in, and put a band-aid on your knee and wipe your tears away.

 

“No nightmares, I presume?” Light hummed softy, glancing first at Mello, who had sat up behind L, and then at Matt over his own shoulder. “I _told_ you: no ghost or monster in this or any other world will dare to bother you when L and I are watching over you.” He grinned at L, who seemed almost as paralyzed as the younger ones. “Isn't that right, love?”

 

L didn't exactly _blush._ But he certainly didn't seem as deathly pale as usual, either.

 

“Now,” Light continued his monologue, sitting up so he could run his fingers through Matt's hair as well, under the pretense of brushing them out of his eyes, “it's only two days until Christmas, so we have much to do! I was thinking that we could even bake gingerbread cookies later today, if everything goes well and you behave yourselves. How does that sound?”

 

L's eyes had visibly lit up at the mention of baking something good; Near was just nodding mutely, and Matt even muttered a very small, “Cool”.

 

Light blinked, tilting his head and frowning slightly. “Mello? You're awfully quiet today. How are you feeling? Maybe you caught a cold last night...” He reached out to press his palm against the boy's forehead; the blond's blue eyes widened at the contact, but he didn't pull back. “No, I don't think you have fever... Well, just tell me if you feel under the weather. It's better to rest today than to spend Christmas in bed, right?”

 

Mello found his chin bobbing up and down and his lips allowing a whispered, “right” out.

 

Light smiled at him and then motioned them to get up. “Alright! Since we have a long day ahead, you'd better head for breakfast now! Matt, see that Mello's breakfast isn't just ChocoPops.”

 

“What's wrong with ChocoPops?” Mello whined.

 

“Nothing, honey, but you need to eat something else, too,” Light replied; Mello almost fell off the bed at “honey”. “Besides, I thought L said you're to go without chocolate until Christmas? That's two more days, Mels.”

 

“No fair...” The blond pouted, but got up and wandered out of the room anyway, with Matt and Near trailing after him. “Don't stay in bed too long or you'll go old and fat and bald!” Mello called back once he was safely behind the door.

 

“Don't worry, we'll follow you in a minute,” Light sang back, allowing a wide grin spread on his face as the door slammed shut. He chuckled a little and turned to find L staring at him. “Hm? What is it... love?” he just had to add.

 

L blinked at the final word, but apparently decided to think about that later. “I... I admit my defeat. Light-kun did indeed succeed in challenging my diet in sweetness.”

 

“Mm-hm. I'm not finished yet,” the younger man smiled, crawling closer to the detective and leaning in to peck him on the cheek. “I didn't expect them to freeze so completely, though.”

 

L's potentially existing eyebrows hid further into his bangs. “You just offered three orphans something they have never experienced in real life – the feeling of belonging to a family. They had absolutely no idea how to react.”

 

“Just three?” Light blinked innocently.

 

“... I may have excluded myself – purely by accident, of course.”

 

“Of _course_.”

 

L tilted his head slightly, eying Light with a contemplating expression. “Sometimes,” he murmured, “I cannot honestly be sure if Kira and Light are the same person or not. These hands...” He touched the tan hand resting on his shoulder. “... Can hold a child as easily as they write down a name on the Death Note, and this mouth,” Light's heart skipped a beat when the spindly fingers ghosted over his lips, “can challenge me as a detective and claim to love me as a person in one sentence. Who are you really?”

 

The younger man smiled slightly. “Do you even know who _you_ really are, L?” he drawled.

 

“... A valid point.” The detective's lips curled ever-so-slightly upwards, indicating that he was pleased with the witty retort.

 

“Feeling a little poetic, are we?” Light teased, leaning closer and making L lean back in turn until the other man's bent back was almost touching the bed.

 

“Mornings,” the raven-haired man countered, slipping out from beneath him and rolling agilely off the bed and onto his feet, “do the strangest things to my creativity.”

 

Light had to grin at that, even though the man had just caused him to land most embarrassingly on his face in the cushions. He could get used to morning banter like this, he thought as he, too, clambered to his feet and proceeded to change his clothes.

 

A moment later, sudden squealing and screams of delight from outside the window interrupted him; L, who had been performing a thorough autopsy on his wardrobe, turned to grace Light with a curious look as he inched towards the window to take a look.

 

“That bloody brat!” he grumbled as the sight of Mello running in the snow, a snowball in his hand and aiming at a younger kid caught his eyes. “Can't do as he's told, I see! And always,” he added, gritting his teeth as he saw Matt running after the blond, and even Near shuffling to the view after a while, “ _always_ drags those two in, too! They're not even properly dressed!”

 

He whipped around and marched out of the room, pulling a forest green sweater over his head as he went, leaving L staring after him with wide eyes. In the hall, he stopped to collect a pile of scarves, gloves and hats and headed out, halting only to stuff his feet angrily into his boots.

 

“Mello!” he yelled as soon as he had gotten out of the door; the boy turned around so fast that he almost fell. “Leave that poor kid alone and get here right now!”

 

Mello obeyed, looking extremely alarmed but oddly fascinated at the same time. To an orphan, _being a part of a family_ seemed to be as effective as any drug: you knew it wasn't as easy and fun as it seemed, but you had to give it a try because _everyone else did it_ – and then you had to try it again, just to see if it had the same effect under different conditions, and then again to see if it still worked, and then once more just for fun...

 

As soon as the blond was within reach, Light wrapped a scarf around his neck, pulled a hat over his ears and handed him a pair of gloves, spicing his jerky movements with a disapproving frown. “I can't believe they have absolutely no control over you here,” he growled. “Seriously!”

 

“I would have thought,” Near commented from where he was sitting on the final step to the porch, drawing pictures in the snow with his finger, “that you were clever enough to have realized by now that trying to control Mello is much like trying to slam a revolving door shut.”

 

“Why thank you, Near-dear!” Mello smirked.

 

“Luckily,” Light noted dryly, turning his attention to putting Near in warm clothes, “I'm quite notorious for attempting the impossible – and succeeding in it amazingly well, if I may say so.”

 

“Big words and no action,” Mello scoffed.

 

Light cocked an eyebrow at that, leaving Near to arrange his woolly hat so that it didn't cover his eyes and turning to Matt, who was already waiting resignedly, knowing full well that there was no escaping this. “Well, I have managed to get quite close to L, for example. Do you think that's something anyone can do?”

 

“... Point taken.” Mello grabbed Matt's arm the moment Light had placed the hat on his head and dashed off with him, either to finally play in the snow or to get as far from Light as possible. That bloody devil in male model disguise hadn't been supposed to take his family act out of L's room, dammit!

 

The auburn-haired man turned his gaze to Near. “Let me guess – no breakfast?”

 

“It snowed last night,” Near said as if it explained everything, drawing perfect circles in the cold, white powder. “It'll only be fresh for a precious few hours.”

 

Light rolled his eyes, smiling inwardly at the way the boy could act like a little kid and a cynical grown-up at the same time. But he had to admit that he enjoyed the snow as well – just like this, when it wasn't too cold. It had been years since he had seen so much of it, since it rarely snowed at all in the southern parts of Japan.

 

“Light-kun,” L's low voice suddenly called softly right next to his ear, and Light blinked, realizing that he had spaced out for a moment.

 

“Sorry, L,” he chuckled, turning to look at the detective. “For running out like that...”

 

Black eyes stared at him from between a blue knit toque and a thick, woolly scarf; the mitten-clad hands were holding out a pair of black gloves and a familiar dark scarf. “Light-kun was in such a haste to get the poor children properly clothed,” he drawled, a decidedly amused look in his eyes, “that he failed to dress up properly himself.”

 

“...” Light stared at the articles of clothing in question, only now paying attention to the chilly breeze sneaking its way right under his coat (which he had, luckily, had the insight to put on). “Alright, alright, that's very funny,” he agreed finally, accepting the offering with a touch of gratefulness and proceeding to finish his attire. “Thank you, though...”

 

He had just pulled the gloves on when something hit his back – hard.

 

“Hey!” He whirled around to find Mello and Matt aiming their next snowballs at him. “Oh, no, don't you _dare_...!”

 

They dared, but one of them missed him and landed in the middle of Near's drawing.

 

Light could almost feel the already chilly temperature drop.

 

“Oh, _shi_ -” was all Mello got out before Near had flung the first snowball in his direction, hitting him in the leg. Another one caught Matt in the shoulder almost immediately.

 

“Language, Mello -” Light and L started at the same time, stopped abruptly as a they realized what they were doing (standing in the snow, hands deep in their pockets, watching the kids play and scolding them for swearing? If that didn't scream _parenthood_ …) glanced at each other and turned their eyes quickly back to the children. Four other kids – the one Mello had chased among them, Light noticed – had joined the snowball fight.

 

“Children,” L murmured, burying his nose in the folds of his scarf – but not before Light had caught a glimpse of his small smile.

 

“Indeed,” he agreed and blinked as something white flew past them. “That was too big to be a snowball.”

 

“Near,” L told him. “He can move incredibly fast when he has to. You should have seen that one time when we were on a vacation in Paris and a man attempted to abduct him...”

 

Light's first instinct was to gasp and say, “You've actually been on a vacation once?”, but he opted against it. That way, there was a chance that the detective could be persuaded to do it again. “What happened?” seemed like a more interesting question, anyway.

 

“Oh, nothing special. The problem was taken care of without my assistance. I merely had to call the police to take him into custody. And the ambulance to take him away. Ah, and then I had to buy Mello a new light saber because he broke his on the thug's head. And Near pretended he was deeply traumatized to make me buy him another vanilla ice cream...”

 

“And... presuming that Matt was with you, what did he get out of this epic battle?”

 

“... Three stitches. He – oh!”

 

A stray snowball had interrupted L by hitting him in the shoulder blade. The detective was moving before Light had even had the time to register that, and once the auburn-haired man's brain had caught up with his eyes, L was already firing back at the supposed culprit (who was, unsurprisingly, Mello).

 

“Sorry! Sorry!” the blond wailed, waving his arms and trying to dance out of the snowballs' way. “I aimed at Light, I swear! It was an accident!”

 

Well. If the three best detectives in the world, along with his three detectives-in-training, could take part in a snowball fight, then maybe... just maybe... Light Yagami could forget being an adult, being responsible, being a suspect and saving the world for just a little while.

 

He crouched, gathered an appropriate amount of snow in his hands, shaped it into a ball and joined the battle.

                                                      

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously, Matt-lien and Mello-dator come from “Alien vs. Predator”. This is a prime example of what my brain does when it's well past my bedtime and something seems incredibly hilarious at the moment. :D Although frankly, this entire fic probably serves as a fantastic example of that.


	11. Dazed and Distracted

Chapter 11

**Dazed and Distracted**

 

“Here you go, L.”

 

L turned around to find a huge cup of cocoa topped with whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles in front of his nose. He blinked. When he felt safe that the treat was really there and not imaginary, he moved his gaze to the hand that held the cup, following the sweater-clad arm, the curve of a shoulder, a slender neck, and finally reached Light's face.

 

He blinked again.

 

Light cleared his throat. “I thought you'd appreciate it after the snow fight, but it's getting heavy so take it before I'm forced to dump it all over you.”

 

Mello, seated on the floor next to the fireplace and cocooned in a warm fleece blanket like L, was staring up at the cup with wide eyes. “If you don't want it,” he said wistfully, “I'll be glad to take it off your hands...”

 

Light smiled at him. “ _Yours_ is in the kitchen, the one in the blue cup. With extra chocolate.”

 

The boy's eyes widened even more, and then he was on his feet and was stomping towards Light in an alarmingly aggressive manner. He stopped only when he was practically standing on Light's toes, and kept looking at him for a moment with unblinking eyes.

 

The God of the New World looked more than just a little intimidated.

 

Finally the boy said slowly and quietly, “I'm not entirely sure what you're doing, Light, but you have my blessing. Welcome to the family.”

 

He whirled around and was off in a flash of blond hair and purple fleece, apparently to get to his precious cup of hot chocolate before anyone else could, leaving L and Light alone in the living-room. L eyed the younger man's beautiful face with great interest as the look of slight fear turned first into shock, and then into a hesitant smile that widened slowly, reigning at full force by the time he turned back to the raven-haired man to offer him the cocoa again.

 

“Hmm? What are you looking at?” he asked as the older man accepted the cup and brought it to his lips.

 

“Nothing,” L murmured, taking a sip of his prize and trying to tell himself that it wasn't to hide his smile.

 

\---

 

After the detectives and the orphans had warmed their fingers around their cocoa cups and burned their tongues with the content of said cups, it was time to decorate the house. Roger unlocked a cupboard in the hall and brought out three cardboard boxes of Christmas decorations, retreating quickly to his office before the teachers unleashed the children on them. Light and L helped the kids and had to step in a few times to stop two (or more) of them fighting over an ornament, but generally the decorating of the house was a calm and pleasant experience for Light, who had never really celebrated Christmas before.

 

“I don't even know where half of these things go,” the Japanese man had to admit. He was holding a package of plastic cherries and a chain of the flags of different countries. “How on earth are these Christmas-y?”

 

“I'm not entirely positive they are supposed to be,” L mused, looking thoughtfully at them, and then at the blue glass ball he was dangling in front of his face by its strap. “But they have always been in the Christmas decorations boxes. I have never thought about it before...”

 

Light chuckled. “Well, I understand the cherries – after all, _you_ live here – and I guess the flags could be because there are children of so many different origins here... What are you doing, trying to tell your future from the crystal ball?”

 

“Yours,” L replied with a quick smile thrown at him before returning to stare at his own reflection on the metallic gleam of the glass ball. “You are going to meet a tall, dark young man, apparently.”

 

“Really? Hopefully he's not quite as insomniac as the _last_ tall, dark young man I met. My sleeping rhythm will never be the same.”

 

“... I have been sleeping this much only when I was a child and when I have been deathly ill.”

 

“... L, sometimes I really wonder how you're still alive.”

 

“Practice, practice,” L reminded him (though it sounded more like a question) before his attention was stolen by Kelly, who wanted to use him as her personal stairway to the upper half of the living-room window, which she was determined to decorate with snowflakes she and some of the other younger children had sloppily cut out of paper. L didn’t seem to have the heart to point out that most of them looked like shredded paper rather than snowflakes, demonstrating that he _could_ , in fact, be considerate when he wanted to, or at least when faced with the threat of crying children.

 

Still quietly basking in the glory of his tentative victory over L's insomnia, Light turned to cherry up the massive evergreen Christmas tree placed in the corner of the living-room. He was down to his last cherry and was contemplating on whether the string of flags was supposed to go around the tree, around a crime scene or perhaps in the doorway to kitchen so the kids would not be able to get in, when he noticed that Near had joined him in decorating the tree.

 

To be more specific, Near had, like a good parent, brought his eight little finger puppets to decorate the tree. Light could almost hear him talking to the puppets, telling them to be careful with the decorations.

 

Then he took a closer look at the puppets.

 

They were modeled after the other residents of the house – a Matt-puppet was currently hanging a glass ball on one of the branches together with a Kyle-puppet, while a Mello-puppet supported the ball from underneath in case it slipped from the other two. An L-puppet was holding the branch in place, accompanied by -

 

“... Is that _me_?”

 

Near looked up at Light as he leaned closer to inspect the puppets. “Ah, yes. I made him yesterday, before we left to the Applegate House. For such a dashed puppet, I think he's fairly successful as far as likeliness goes.” He reached out to wriggle the finger with the Light-puppet in front of the real-life Light's face.

 

_I am a finger puppet_ , Light thought, gaping at the thing in awe.

 

Then Mello's earlier words floated past his mental ears, and he started to wonder – Mello had said that he had his blessing, apparently at least partly because he could fulfill the boy’s requests for chocolate even before he asked. Could this maybe, possibly, in some alternative universe, mean that Near had accepted him as well? After all, his puppet was quite happily right next to L's (on Near's middle finger, which Light thought a bit too innocent to be a coincidence), and it seemed that Near had only made puppets of the people he considered “family”.

 

“ _Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle aaaaaall the wayyy_!” Mello shattered the delicate moment by skipping to them, a silvery, glittery tinsel garland wrapped around his neck and shoulders like a feather boa. “ _Ohhh what fun it is to riiide_... hmmm mmh hm hm,” he hummed the final words tactfully and proceeded to hang a little wooden angel on a branch.

 

Near sighed. “Trust Mello to turn even that song into poorly concealed porn.”

 

“Hey, now!” Mello protested.

 

“But O Mighty Prophet,” Matt intervened earnestly from next to Light, his eyes wide behind the goggles and his hands clasped together as if in prayer, “the heretic has a touch of divine truth in his words! Surely we must add that beautiful song to the Psalms of Mello?”

 

“This one is better,” Mello promised, throwing a grin at the redhead and snatching the puppets from Near's left hand. The blond cleared his throat, lifted the L-puppet and started in a sickly sweet girly voice, “ _There goes the baker with his tray like always_...”

 

Matt doubled over in laughter and Near slammed his forehead into his puppet-less hand. Light was confused. “The tune is slightly familiar but... is that a Christmas song?”

 

“No,” L's voice came suddenly from behind him, and Light whirled around to get an eyeful of the detective's pout. “That's from Disney's _Beauty and the Beast_...”

 

“ _Look, there he goes, that boy is strange, no question,_ ” Mello sang the part of the townspeople, now waving the puppets Shane and Linda and making them gossip and send meaningful glances at the isolated L-puppet. “ _Dazed and distracted, can't you tell_ -”

 

“ _Never part of any crowd, 'cause his head's up on some cloud_ ,” Matt joined suddenly, having stolen the Kyle-puppet (and the Matt-puppet) from Near, “ _No denying he's a funny boy, that L_!”

 

Realization dawned on Light. “They're making you _Belle_!” he exclaimed in glee.

 

“Yes,” L replied, and the aura radiating from him was once again that adorable, strange mixture of irritation and amusement. “I believe they are.”

 

The writer of these lyrics had probably made Belle rhyme with L on purpose, Light thought, because they fit so well – wasn't Belle's father a strange inventor? Watari could certainly pass for one...

 

Suddenly Near surprised them by raising his three remaining puppets and joining the choir. “ _Oh, isn't this amazing_ ,” he sang in a low, soft voice, waving a white-haired Near-puppet, and even Mello and Matt turned to look at him in amazement. “ _It's my fav'rite part because – you'll see... Here's where he meets the killer, but he won't discover that it's him 'til chapter three_!”

 

Wait, was the kid implying...?

 

Light's grin turned into a frown when he noticed that Mello was holding the Light-puppet as well. If he was going to be a part of this play, the blond would probably make him either the handsome prince turned into a murderous beast – which just hit a tad bit too close to home right now – or...

 

“Wow, you scored a hundred percent, Light! You're the smartest Ken doll in the whole world!” the Matt-puppet covering Matt's index finger gushed like a good fangirl.

 

“Oh, I know!” the Light-puppet boasted in Mello's voice.

 

… yeah.

 

L buried his face in his palms. Light was tempted to follow suit. Near smirked.

 

“He's the one!” Mello cried, pointing the Light-puppet at the L-puppet. “The lucky guy I'm going to marry!”

 

Matt gasped. “But he's -”

 

“The most intelligent boy in town! That makes him the best – and don't I _deserve_ the best?”

 

Light was willing to swear that if Mello could have made the puppet wiggle its eyebrows, he would have done so.

 

The logic was sound, though.

 

“ _There must be more than this boring life_!”, the L-puppet sighed in Mello's left hand.

 

“ _Just watch, I'm going to make L my wife_!” the blond switched into his Light Yagami voice, which cracked at the end of his sentence where a mad laughing fit threatened to destroy the performance.

 

Near and Matt rushed in to save the show, singing, “ _Look, there he goes, that boy is strange but special – a most peculiar genius_!” By now Mello had recovered from his cackling and was ready to join for the grande finale. “ _It's a pity and a sin he doesn't quite fit in – he really is a funny boy, so smart but such a funny boy – he really is a funny boy, that L_!”

 

The song was followed by a moment's silence, during which Light noticed that almost every single one of the orphans had gathered around to listen with wide eyes -

 

… and then the thundering applauding almost swept him off his feet.

 

Mello and Matt were throwing extravagant smiles and bows and graceful waves all around, Near smiled a little, Light's face was burning, and L looked like he had just realized for the first time in his life what it felt like to be embarrassed.

 

“I'm never going to be able to watch the _Beauty and the Beast_ again,” Linda moaned somewhere in the background.

 

“Near,” Mello began in a solemn voice, “I officially like you know. From now on, our friendship shall bloom forever, and serve as an example to the generations to come.”

 

“I'm flattered,” Near murmured blankly, carefully plucking the puppets from Mello's fingers and stuffing them into the safety of his breast pocket.

 

L cleared his throat, having finally recovered some of his usual lack of color. “Does Light-kun intend to have Watari taken into a mental asylum to blackmail me into marriage?” he inquired.

 

His eyes added, _I have read that taking the joke even further will help divert the attention from your embarrassment_.

 

Light feigned a shudder. “I have a feeling that if a thought like that even crossed my mind, I would find myself straitjacketed and in a padded room sooner than you can inhale sweets.” Smiling a little, he eye-mailed back, _If diversion doesn't work, change the topic_. “Alright, kids, I'm sure everyone but L is already on the verge of diabetes, thanks to that particularly sugary episode of _The Mello Show_ , but could I possibly interest anyone in baking gingerbread cookies...?”

 

\---

 

It turned out that the children of Wammy's House had not baked gingerbread cookies in years.

 

Two sweaty hours later Light knew exactly why.

 

The staff of the orphanage had disappeared magically the moment the word “baking” was mentioned, and thus L and Light were left to lead the operation on their own – though in reality L caused just as much trouble as the rest of the kids, so Light had to take the role of the responsible adult to himself.

 

They used frozen dough, and later Light was immensely grateful to whoever had thought to fill the freezer with it (he was willing to bet it was Watari, because Watari seemed to be the devil behind just about everything), because there was quite enough of mess and havoc even without having to prepare that, too. Soon enough, the air was full or flour, the voices of the children and the occasional pieces of candy flying and hitting someone in the head.

 

“Where's the reindeer-shaped cutter? Linda! Hand it over here!”

 

“No, I'm using it!”

 

“But I want to make reindeer, you can make pigs, here!”

 

“I don't want pigs!”

 

“How dare you – MATT!”

 

“I'm sorry! Sorry! It was an accident, an accident – aaaaarrghh, Liiiiight! Help!”

 

“What the – I turn my back for a minute, and you two are all over each other... Mello, let Matt go. Why do you have syrup on your face?”

 

“ _Ask him_!”

 

“... I'm not sure I want to know, but Matt, why does Mello have – L! Greedy paws off my dough!”

 

“But -”

 

“No buts! There will be no random fingerprints on my gingerbread cookies, and there will most definitely be no mysteriously disappearing mouthfuls of dough!”

 

“Unimportant! Deal with the dough thief later, my case was the first in line! I demand justice! He shot me with syrup -”

 

“... It was an acci – _sweet Sephiroth_ , Near, you freaked me out! Go put on some blush, I can barely tell you apart from all the flour!”

 

“You're not the only one, Dana already grabbed my hair with every intention to sprinkle it over the table...”

 

“Really? Dana, you're my favorite girl!”

 

“Thanks, Mello, you're mine, too!”

 

“You little -”

 

“... So much for your eternal friendship, then... _L, for the last freaking time_! Hands off or you're not getting any when they're ready!”

 

This particular declaration was followed by a deep, floury silence, strengthened by twenty-four wide-eyed stares directed at Light.

 

“... Cookies. Getting any _cookies_ , dammit.”

 

“Oh, is _that_ what they call it these days?” Mello sniggered.

 

L blinked at him. “For someone so intelligent, Light-kun truly has a tendency to word himself very poorly...”

 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, because you're the embodiment of smooth lines, aren’t you? Put your hands in your pockets if you can't do anything useful – _not right now, idiot, you have dough in your hands –_ gah, why do you have to be such a _brat_?”

 

“... I... was not thinking...”

 

“Go away, dammit! On the other side of the kitchen, right now! I can't focus with you around!”

 

Sulking, the detective trudged to the other side of the room and proceeded to poke at Near's cookies and steal the candies when the boy was not looking; satisfied, Light turned around to continue guiding the poor lost souls in the dark valley of gingerbread cookies, and came face to face with Mello. So face to face, actually, that the syrup on the blond's cheek was close to get smeared on his face as well.

 

“Hey, Light-ooo,” the blonde said, and reminded him so eerily of Ryuk that he had to stop to wonder if humans and Shinigami could be related to each other.

 

“Mell-ooo?” he stammered back, trying to shoo the idea of Mello as a Shinigami out of his mind.

 

The blond looked at him for a moment, very serious now; then his eyes shifted slowly to L on the other side of the room, and just as slowly back to Light. “You'll be careful with him, won't you?” he said finally in a very low voice.

 

Well, that was unexpected.

 

What could you say to that? 'Where's the _fragile – handle with care_ sticker?' 'Do you know what _my_ parents will say when they find out?'

 

Suddenly, Light got the strangest feeling that Mello wasn't talking to _him_ but…

 

“... I don't care,” the boy interrupted his thoughts, his voice barely above a whisper now; Light had to strain to hear it over the shouting voices of the orphans. “I know L chained himself to you because he suspects you of something, not because of a ridiculous experiment. We both know that if I let myself think about it even for a second, I will immediately realize what he suspects you of, and I'm only stopping myself from thinking about it because L must have chosen to keep quiet to protect us. But...”

 

Mello turned suddenly, his profile facing Light, and started to decorate the cookies lying on the table in front of him, apparently feeling uncomfortable in the situation; his eyes were hidden by his golden hair, and his hands were steady in a way that told that the boy was using all his willpower to keep them from shaking. Transfixed, Light turned as well and followed suit, edging close enough to hear the boy's next words.

 

“... But,” Mello was saying softly, “as long as you make him happy, I just plain don't care if you're guilty or not.”

 

Light's heart went _ba-dumb_ , and then it skipped a beat. Disbelief, happiness, regret and triumph coursed through his veins in a flash. For a moment, he couldn't hear the orphans, and his blood seemed to have frozen; then the real world returned to him so suddenly that he felt momentarily nauseous.

 

Even after that, his head felt a little dizzy, his legs a little weak. Mello had just as good as declared, _I know you're Kira, but as long as you’re nice to L, I don’t give a crap_.

 

And he was practically keeping the detective as a prisoner... because even though L was no longer so vehemently against his touch as he had been, Light could still not be sure whether it was because the man was beginning to trust him, or because he was being blackmailed.

 

Guilt was not a feeling Light Yagami was accustomed to.

 

He was dimly aware of Mello's eyes heavy on him as he spun around, looking wildly for L with his gaze – though he was not sure why, what it was he intended to do – but the man wasn't there. Light's eyes settled on Near, who was pressing French pastilles into his cookies, looking innocent enough until he raised his head.

 

As he excused himself to the kids and rushed out of the room, Light had a passing, eerie feeling that if things had progressed differently, Near would have worn that quirky, smug little smile on his pale, childish face while watching him die.

 

\---

 

“Well, are you?”

 

L had blinked and looked at Near, his fingers still holding a pastille to his lips. “Pardon?” he questioned.

 

Near had gazed back at him with his unfaltering storm cloud-colored eyes. “Involved in a romantic relationship?”

 

L had dropped the pastille. “... What?” he had asked quickly, suspecting that he had heard incorrectly.

 

“ _He_ is,” Near had continued without repeating his question. “Are you?”

 

“I...” Confused, L had turned back to the cookies; they had looked much safer than the ghastly pale boy standing next to him. He had been tempted to deny he knew what Near was talking about, but then again, the kid had heard parts of his monologue and his fight with Light not too long ago. Near _knew_. “I believe that this is a private matter,” he had decided finally. Relationships were private, right? Especially the romantic ones.

 

… Aw, _damn_.

 

“That counts as a _yes_ ,” Near had murmured.

 

Well, L had figured, it was the boy's turn now. “Exactly how much did Near hear when -” he had started to say.

 

“Oh!” the boy had exclaimed unenthusiastically, pointing behind L. “Looks like Mello is giving Light a hard time...”

 

Distracted by the interruption, L had glanced over his shoulder, and for some reason the sight of the brunet, looking so serious, so worried as he listened to the blond, had made something tickle the insides of his stomach. It was a curious feeling; not entirely unpleasant, but certainly not comfortable either.

 

“... Near,” he had said after a moment's hesitation. “Do you think it will be damaging to L?”

 

“His life? It better not be.” Near had blinked slowly, turning his disinterested gaze back to his cookies. “His career? It doesn't matter.” He had picked a sweet from the bowl on the table and brought it to his lips, glancing at him from the corner of his eye. “You're human, too, aren't you?”

 

The next thing L remembered was the door to his room. He presumed that he had excused himself and wandered upstairs; to do what, he’d had no idea until he had opened the door, stepped in and his gaze had fallen on the bedside drawer.

 

Several minutes later Light came rushing in, stopping dead on his tracks after barging through the door, gaping at the sight of the world's best detective pinning old pictures and paintings to the wall. L was making sure to pierce the wallpaper only where there was a hole already, putting every single piece of paper back on the place it had been ripped from so many years ago; back where they belonged.

 

“What,” Light gasped, then coughed to clear his throat, took a deep breath and asked again, in a more collected voice, “What are you doing?”

 

L, standing on the bed and splayed against the wall to reach the far corner of the painting he was holding, turned his head to blink at the younger man. “I'm decorating our room for Christmas,” he replied, and something within him shivered. When had _his room_ turned into _our room_?

 

The young man looked around in amazement, walking to the opposing wall to stare at the photographs L had put there. Mello, Matt and Near in varying sizes and ages, a couple of kids he didn't know, and the black and white picture of an unknown woman with a baby...

 

“I see,” he said then, “but why these?”

 

The raven-haired man withdrew from the wall, but remained standing on the bed, his back to Light. “Because,” he said slowly, in an almost questioning tone, “because even though I'm a letter on the screen... I'm human, too. I am allowed to feel. Allowed to have memories, have a past and a childhood.” He blinked at the wall, distantly aware of the burning behind his eyes. “The ones who told me to be nothing but that letter on the screen have been dead and buried for a long time, already.”

 

He turned around to find that Light had turned as well, and was eying him with an unreadable expression. They looked at each other for a moment in silence; then L exhaled, stepped down from the bed, and slowly, hesitantly, he extended his right hand towards Light.

 

“I am L Lawliet,” he introduced himself, finally giving his name out of free will – he knew it was, in a way, insignificant because Light already knew, but the widening of those golden eyes told him that the meaning behind his gesture had been realized. His voice was a little hoarse, unused to speaking these words. “... I am the son of Watari's goddaughter,” his eyes flitted to the black and white picture and back to Light's again, “and I was brought here after my parents were killed in a traffic accident when I was five. This is my home.”

 

His eyes were unwilling to stay focused on Light's face, and at the end of his speech they were lowered to the floor between them. Soon after the last words had stumbled past his lips, a tan hand joined his in his view, and Light's hand was warm against his; then another hand approached him, reached out, touched his chin and lifted it with a finger hooked under it.

 

Light's lips were smiling sadly, happily, proudly, but what L found more important was that his eyes were smiling as well. “The pleasure is all mine,” the younger man whispered, in a half-joking tone to cover how deadly serious he was.

 

L smiled.

 

\---

 

The night was dark blue and windless. Big, soft snowflakes were floating down slowly and gently, landing on L's upturned face and his dark hair.

 

Technically, he presumed they landed on Light as well, but he couldn't tell with his eyes closed. The snowfall had started again soon after their earlier discussion, and in the spirit of their new, strange truce, Light had suggested that they take a short walk outside, obviously having caught the way L’s eyes had brightened at the fresh snow this morning, at the way he had followed the falling snowflakes a few days earlier, when they had been walking home from the town. The walk had been slow, spent in companionable silence, L too overwhelmed by recent events to speak and Light – Light, perhaps, a little overwhelmed as well, he thought. Every time he glanced at the younger man, he just managed to catch Light looking at him, always with a soft little smile on his face, and every time Light turned his gaze elsewhere, seeming oddly embarrassed at being caught even though he had had no trouble staring at L before.

 

And this was where the walk had brought them, standing in the darkness just beyond the reach of the house’s porch light, faces upturned, Light standing behind him. Both were unwilling to go inside just yet; this moment seemed perfect, everything in harmony, and L had a feeling that they both feared that going back in would upset the fragile balance. The silence would certainly come to an end.

 

L was dimly aware of the many pairs of eyes peeking curiously at them through the curtains of the windows of the living room, comfortably aware of Light's chest against his back and his cheek against the side of his head and very, very much aware of the arms wrapped around his waist. He felt almost certain that the children should have been asleep and not watching this, but for this short never-ending moment he couldn't bring himself to care.

 

“What is it with you and things falling from the sky?” Light murmured into his ear.

 

L blinked slowly. “That makes it sound as if I make a habit of having meteors and grand pianos raining on me whenever I step outdoors.”

 

Light considered it for a moment. “There's something disturbingly hilarious about that picture,” he decided. “But I was actually talking about something more natural and common – it seems to me that you find your way outdoors every time it rains or snows...”

 

The dark-haired detective shrugged slightly. “There is nothing mysterious about that – I simply happen to like rain and snowfall. Or at least a peaceful snowfall like this...”

 

He trailed off; Light's right hand had left his waist to be raised slightly, palm upturned to gather some of the plump snowflakes on his bare hand.

 

L had always enjoyed standing under the rain or snowfall – it seemed to calm his erratic, overactive mind. But being alone had always been an important aspect of those moments of freedom, so he could, for a while, forget the burden the world had set on his shoulders; he had never thought that he'd enjoy doing so with someone else.

 

It was time for an experiment.

 

“Light-kun,” L said after a while, opening his eyes and looking at the sky. “Would you do me a favor?”

 

“Almost anything,” the younger man replied immediately. “With several restrictions – you're not getting the Moon, unless Mello will do, or all the sweets and cakes in the world, and I won't do anything that involves rolling in the snow.” He stopped to reconsider. “The last one is not absolute,” he decided finally.

 

Allowing a low chuckle escape from his lips, L turned around in Light's arms and offered him a small, lopsided smile. “Nothing quite that demanding,” he assured the other one. Then he exhaled deeply, gathered his courage and said, “I am merely asking you to kiss me.”

 

Light stared. “Kiss you?”

 

“And not pull back before I react,” L explained. “You have been doing that, and I would very much like to know how I would react if you didn't.”

 

“I've been doing that on purpose,” Light protested. “I rather like my teeth where they are, and my ribs are a lot more comfortable in one piece than in several.”

 

L frowned (the logic seemed sound...), was silent for a short moment and then forced out, with a small grimace, “... Please?”

 

He barely got the despicable word out of his mouth, and the question mark was pretty much swallowed by Light, who's lips were soft and warm and moving slowly on his.

 

He froze. Light ran his tongue over his lips, prodding gently for an entrance.

 

He couldn't move, couldn't think, couldn't focus on anything for long – there were the arms around him, trapping him and protecting him, and the cold snowflakes caressing his face, soothing him and startling him, and the lips -

 

Light was hesitating.

 

Suddenly L found his lips moving against Light's, and the younger man was so startled by the sudden movement that he almost moved away, only to be stopped by L's bare fingers curling into his coat and keeping him in place.

 

It wasn't a long kiss, and not much could be said about the explorative qualities of it – no forbidden temples or lost cities were discovered, and no movies were made of it – but it was a kiss, and since kissing was one the things that took two people participating to be complete, L supposed it was, in a way, their first.

 

“That,” he murmured when there was enough air between their lips to breathe and speak, “explains a lot.”

 

Light was tilting his head in a questioning way and opening his mouth to voice it, when the sound of the gates opening and tires turning on fresh snow reached their ears. They turned around to see a sleek black car screech into a halt once it was inside the gates; the engine stopped humming, and a moment later a familiar figure opened the driver's door and stood up next to it.

 

“Watari!” L exclaimed, breaking free from Light's arms and practically dashing to the elderly man like a kid, only to stop awkwardly in front of him as if suddenly remembering that he was supposed to act like a grown-up.

 

Watari looked at the detective, looking slightly startled for a moment, but then that look melted in to a gentle smile. “It has been years since you last did that,” the man said, obviously touched. Light was grinning, like he could almost see the memory of a ten-year-old L skipping across the yard to greet Watari, probably in his pajamas and barefoot even in the worst snowstorms.

 

L scratched the back of his head, feeling suddenly like an embarrassed, awkward teenager rather than the three top detectives of the modern world. Watari chuckled at him and turned to nod at Light, who had come to stand next to the detective. The elderly man's gaze stopped for a moment at the empty space between their wrists; the man glanced at L's slightly pink face, then at Light's mortified expression, and then at the space between them again.

 

Then he smiled. “Would you two be so kind and help an old man with his luggage?”

 

Light grinned and nodded; L closed his eyes and allowed himself a moment of relief and peace. If everything had felt right and correct the moment before, now things were downright idyllic. He had everything he needed right here.

 

And now that Watari was here as well, Christmas could finally come.

 


	12. Dating Business

Chapter 12

**Dating Business**

 

“Light-kuuuuuuuun~!”

 

Light growled and pulled the blanket over his head.

 

“Liiiiiight! Are you awake, daaaarliiiing?”

 

_Thump, thump, thump_. Small fists were pounding against their door in what the person on the other side probably considered a polite way to knock on a potentially sleeping person's door.

 

“Light-kun,” L groaned, stirring next to him. “Get up and go deal with her.”

 

“ _No_ ,” Light grumbled. “I'm here on a Misa-free vacation, and I'll never forgive Watari for bringing her here. _Never_.”

 

“But she's waking everyone up...”

 

“Like it bothers _you_.”

 

_“_ The _noise_ bothers me.” L shrugged. “If you're adamant on not getting up, you are going down instead,” he said, and kicked the younger man unceremoniously off the bed.

 

“L!” Light yelped, stumbling to the floor in a not necessarily divine heap of limbs and blankets. The detective was doing horrible things to his godliness. Seriously.

 

“Oh Light-oooo,” another sickly sweet voice called from the other side of the door, and for a moment Light froze in fear that Ryuk had decided to follow the blonde here. The next words were, oddly enough, a slight relief to him. “Pants on, and I sincerely hope you haven't defied us by having pre-marriage sex, 'cause we're coming in nooow~”

 

“Eeeh?” Misa's shrill voice hiked a few octaves higher. “Who are they having sex with? Both of them? _At the same time_? And what do you mean, _marriage_?” She gasped. “Is Ryuzaki getting married? Awesome!”

 

“No, that's not...” Mello said, but apparently he was so disturbed by the mental image of L getting married to anyone or anything that he trailed off in the middle of the sentence. If Mello was thinking anywhere along the same lines with Light, he was currently very much preoccupied by mental images of the detective first in a black suit and then, worse still, in a white dress...

 

Well, like hell he was going to let Mello see him thrown to the floor by L, Light thought and started a wild battle to get up.

 

The serene harmony both the young man and the detective had felt the day before had shattered like glass when Light had gone to the car to get Watari's luggage, and instead of it had found a hyper-energetic blonde in the backseat. She had, according to her story, come to London for the shooting of a scene for her movie a few days before, bumped into Watari at the airport, and, knowing that L and Light were in England, had convinced Watari into allowing her to come over for Christmas – because “who would want to spend Christmas in a plane? Misa doesn't, at least!”

 

Light had barely managed to scramble up and reach over L for his t-shirt – he had abandoned it in the heat of the night... provided by the thick blanket, not his still reluctant boyfriend, he thought sourly – when Mello kicked the door open.

 

Unfortunately, he did this the same moment that L chose to sit up, and thus, when Mello paraded in with Misa, Matt and Near in tow, they were met with the sight of a shirtless Light, looming dangerously over the detective with one of his arms supporting him on the bed and the other reaching behind the other man, and of an equally shirtless L, frozen in a half-sitting position where his face had unexpectedly collided with Light's very naked chest.

 

“Oh!” Misa let out an odd squeal.

 

“Oh no no no!” Mello roared. “Ken doll _off_ the bed, leave Theresa alone!”

 

This time, Light was not the only one to give the blond a curious stare. Even L shook out of his shock and leaned out from beneath Light's chest to peer at the boy.

 

“Well,” Mello explained without batting an eye, “he can't be Barbie 'cause he's not blond. So Theresa? Barbie's best friend? Slimy Ken attempting to violate his girlfriend's best friend?”

 

Misa looked a little surprised. “Oh, Ryuzaki, you think of me as your best friend?” she gasped, tears of joy and pity gathering in her eyes. Apparently the rest of Mello's words – her boyfriend attacking and assaulting her supposed best friend who just happened to be male – were allowed to whistle by her ears as insignificant.

 

“I -” L started, but was interrupted by Matt clearing his throat loudly.

 

“Mello, Mels, my sweet, darling beloved Mello...” the redhead began in a sugary voice, “ _how come you are so very familiar with Barbie and her relationships_? Because I know for a fact that _we_ never played with Barbie.”

 

Mello shot a hasty glance at Near, and the rest of the occupants of the room blinked (even Misa). Near's blink was especially pronounced. “I,” he replied in a distantly defensive tone, “played with an Action Man figure. _You_ had the Barbie one.”

 

Even Mello had the grace to go a little pink around the earlobes.

 

L was quick to seize this chance to change the topic. “Very well, before anyone can poison our poor ears with any more dirty secrets,” he said, pushing Light off the bed again and getting up as well, “I must request that you leave us now so that Light-kun can focus on his daily morning rituals – otherwise I'm afraid we will never make it to breakfast, and that would put me on a really sour mood. If you would be so kind...”

 

Grumbling, whining and rolling their eyes the three boys and the model strolled out of the room, closing the door. Light sauntered over to his bag lying on the floor to get a new shirt, and L went to the door, opened it and blinked down at the four young people who had had their ears pressed against it – Near and Misa kneeling on the floor and Mello and Matt standing on their tiptoes to reach over them.

 

“Downstairs,” Near was quick to realize as the detective's imperious glare fell on them.

 

“Breakfast,” Mello agreed.

 

“Do you work out? Your abs are awesome,” Misa observed, staring shamelessly at the man's exposed midriff.

 

“We're going,” Matt murmured mildly, grabbed Mello by wrist and Misa by the back of her shirt and hauled them back from the door.

 

Amused, Light watched L listen until he heard the four reach the second floor before finally closing the door and locking it.

 

“They really are a handful,” the younger man commented. “Though I must say that for once, Misa got something right, your abs _are_ amazing...”

 

“Kira-kun.”

 

Light felt his insides freeze. L was standing there, back against the door, his head lowered so that his hair covered his face, his thin arms wrapped loosely around his own frail body. And then there was that name, that horrible name that meant nothing but higher and higher walls between them...

 

“What... does Kira-kun...” L spoke slowly, quietly, as though every word was trying to cling to his throat, as though he had to force them out. “... want... me to do?”

 

For a moment, Light was positive that he was dreaming, a weird, cruel dream – then he suddenly felt dizzy and realized that he had forgotten to breathe.

 

“What – what do you mean?” was all he could get out.

 

The detective stole a quick glance at him and then hung his head even lower. “Kira-kun,” he began, and something within Light burned angrily at the way the man used the name as a weapon, as a way to put more distance between them when they had finally gotten so close, “has everything he needs right here. L, thirty-seven hostages... and the Shinigami eyes.”

 

Light's eyes widened. That was true – L's most faithful friend had practically handed him a revolver by bringing Misa into a house where everyone L cared about lived. Why hadn't he realized that last night, when the blonde had first sprung to his arms? What had happened to the constantly calculating, plotting Kira?

 

“So now...” L murmured, taking a few, hesitant steps closer until they were standing chest to chest, the raven-black hair almost tickling Light's collarbones and chin. “... Now Kira-kun truly holds all the cards. With the lives of the children at stake I can no longer afford to be proud.”

 

The detective was now practically in his lap; alarmed, Light took a hold of the man's arms, though whether it was to push him away, to console him, to pull him closer, to threaten him, he had no idea.

 

L took a shuddering breath and seemed to shrink in his arms. “So...” he continued softly, “from now on... as long as the people in this orphanage are unharmed... Kira-kun may do whatever he pleases.”

 

By now Light's heart was beating so loud it was a wonder if the other man couldn't hear it. He felt like he was going to hyperventilate any minute – exhilaration and dread were battling for room in his chest, and he found that his hands were shaking. Was the detective implying...?

 

“Are you talking about... our relationship?” he managed to ask.

 

L hesitated, then nodded quickly. Light still couldn't see his face, because he was standing hunched over and with his head bowed.

 

He looks so defeated, Light thought in awe. _Submissive._

 

“Even sexually?” he blurted out before he could stop himself.

 

L stiffened notably in his arms, but after a moment he seemed to force himself to relax a little. “If it's necessary,” he finally gave his consent, and it was a strange sound – a weak mutter and a frustrated, defeated growl at the same time. “Kira-kun wins.”

 

_I WIN_!

 

Light felt momentarily dizzy again; the victorious voice of Kira was screaming in his head, and he felt hot and freezing cold at the same time. This was it: the final barrier between him and his goal had fallen – he was free to do whatever he wished, and to make it better, L was his to play with and had no way of rejecting or stopping him anymore. The world was his for the taking; and so was L. He had everything he wanted.

 

He had won. He had won.

 

Then why did it feel like he had lost?

 

“L, I...”

 

Suddenly the detective's pearly white skin felt icy to his touch, and startling them both, he shoved the man away; caught off-guard, L stumbled and collapsed half on the bed, half on the floor, his eyes finally snapping up to subject Light to a stunned stare. He looked like he had been slapped, and Light's fingertips were tingling so hard that he wasn't all that sure he hadn't backhanded the man before pushing him away.

 

“Do you,” Light asked slowly, breathing heavily and glowering at the fallen detective, “do you really think I would blackmail you into having sex with me by threatening the lives of these people? Do I really seem to be the kind of person who would _murder children_ to force someone to spread his legs?”

 

The wide-eyed look of awe, fear and perhaps, perhaps a touch of respect in L's midnight eyes told him that the man had now, too, realized the insult that had been included in his offer; but even though he felt he was rightly angered by this, it was not the reason behind the swelling, burning depression and rage spreading in his chest. After all, L was well aware that he’d killed innocent people among the guilty, had saved his own skin at the cost of the lives of others, and so L’s assumption wasn’t at all unfounded. But that wasn’t it either.

 

Curiously enough, he found that what hurt the most was the thought that L would only consider him a lover under the threat of innocent children getting killed.

 

He expected the detective to counter-attack by reminding him that though he was now willing to grant the children safety, he had been quite happy to blackmail L earlier by threatening his and Watari's lives. He steeled himself against it, prepared to shoot back that he had only done so to prevent the detective from ratting him out, to protect himself, and when had he ever truly abused his power over the other man, anyway – but the words never came.

 

“Light-kun,” L murmured instead, and for some reason, the softly whispered name stole the power from Light's rage and replaced it with sadness.

 

“Whatever, L,” he replied tiredly, softer than he had intended but still harsher than he wanted. “You don't have to do anything. I've taken a liking to these kids, they're safe.” Pointedly, he turned his back to the man, grabbed a pair of clean black sweatpants and a gray t-shirt, changed into them and dashed out of the room.

 

On the way out, his eyes glanced – out of a habit – at the mirror decorating the door of L's closet, but instead of his own appearance he took in the sight the world's greatest detective, sitting on the floor slumped against the side of the bed, shirtless and disheveled and staring at the carpet with a thoroughly stricken, confused look in his wide, dark eyes.

 

The haunted look – like he had just woken up from a nightmare – made Light pause momentarily at the doorway. “... I'm going downstairs,” he said, finally. “You should follow as soon as you can. If they realize we've fought there will be questions.”

 

And with that, he finally tore his gaze from the reflection and left the room.

 

\---

 

Light was on such a foul mood after the row that by the time he reached the first floor he had completely forgotten about Misa.

 

“Light-kuuuuun~” she exclaimed when he stepped into the kitchen, and he stopped, almost as if the woman's voice was a physical wall he had walked into. “Here, your morning coffee!” she continued, pushing a large cup of steaming coffee into his hands. “Strong, bitter and with a drop of milk, as you like it! Misa was worried Light-kun would take so long it would get cold!”

 

Light blinked, frowned, took a sip of the coffee, blinked again and frowned again. It was exactly the way he liked his morning coffee – but how did Misa know that? She had never been present when he had had coffee in the morning...

 

“Mello is such a gossip,” Matt clarified from the other side of the table, where he was waiting for the toaster to spit out his bread.

 

“I'm not!”

 

Light raised his brows at the younger and marginally more masculine blond. “And you are aware of the perfect composition of my morning coffee because?”

 

“Not because I've been stalking,” Mello scoffed.

 

“... Though he has...” Near muttered through his spoonful of oatmeal.

 

“I have not,” Mello hissed. “I did keep an eye on you in the beginning, though, because you were suspicious,” he added then. “Besides, it's not like finding out your routines is difficult, you OCD.”

 

“Ouch,” Light admitted, and was distracted by Misa tugging at his sleeve. “What is it?”

 

Misa flashed a smile at him, looking the slightest bit nervous. “Mello-kun told Misa that Light-kun never eats anything before he has finished his morning coffee -” Light shot a dirty look at the younger blond. “- so maybe Light-kun would like to take a walk in the backyard while he drinks it?”

 

Light was about to decline and say that he very much preferred the warmth of the kitchen to the chilly morning outdoors, but something about Misa's expression told him that this was potentially important. His heart sank; was it something about Kira? Hadn't he dealt with enough of Kira for one morning? He was on vacation, dammit!

 

He was beginning to despise Kira; like a foolish, malicious twin brother who paraded around just two steps ahead of him, leaving mess after mess for him to clean up...

 

“Very well,” he sighed, went to get his coat and Misa's from the closet in the hall and followed her out with the coffee cup clutched protectively in his hands. This was forming to be a very bad morning, and he was positive he wouldn't make it out alive without the support of his precious caffeine.

 

Misa skipped a few steps ahead of him, clearly fascinated by the beauty of fresh snow around them. Especially with the huge, old-fashioned manor, the high walls around the yard, and the black, ornate metal gates, topped with the dead stalks of the trees strewn around the snowy garden, he could definitely see why it struck the goth girl as attractive. With no children in view, the place had a sense of vampiric, Gothic romantic beauty to it.

 

He had just started to entertain thoughts of L with fangs and perhaps even red eyes when Misa suddenly stopped and turned to face him, apparently deciding that they were out of earshot.

 

“Light-kun,” she began, hesitantly now, all her earlier cheerfulness gone. Light remembered suddenly that she hadn't called him that for ages – she had omitted the honorific altogether in an attempt to bring them closer. “Light-kun, I didn't really come here for Christmas... I just happened to meet Watari-san at the airport, and I thought that this was a perfect opportunity to meet you without Ryuzaki's surveillance cameras... but oh! He took the chain off?” She blinked, apparently only now actually registering that the chain was gone, and thus, so was L.

 

“Ah... yes.” The mention of the detective stung a little at the moment, so he didn't evaluate.

 

“Light-kun, that's great!” she beamed, looking like she was about to hug him; but then the look on her face changed again, as if she had suddenly remembered what she was going to say. “Uh... Light-kun, you know that I love you very much, don't you?”

 

Light frowned. She was serious – she was using the first person pronoun instead of the third person to appear cute (like L, who did it to distance himself from everyone else – and did so excessively when he was addressing Kira instead of Light...) - she was going to ask him for something. Perhaps an engagement? If so, he realized he would actually have a hard time deciding what to say – to seal the deal with his Eyes, or to finally break up with her, because after everything he'd been through with L, especially after this morning – hah, after throwing the man away when he had practically offered to whore himself to him in exchange for the safety of the orphans... he didn't think he could bring himself to keep the girl's hopes up anymore.

 

With some surprise, Light had to admit to himself that he now knew how Misa felt. The girl had deluded herself into thinking that he loved her when she knew very well that he was merely using her – just like he had allowed himself to hope that L was falling for him when he had known all along that the detective was only letting him so close because he had no choice.

 

He felt a sudden rush of warmth towards the silly girl and found himself wishing he could make it up for her somehow, perhaps even wishing that she could help him...

 

Misa took a deep breath. “I... can't be with you anymore,” she whispered hastily.

 

For the first time in the company of this woman, Light's mind drew a complete blank. “... What?”

 

“I'm so sorry!” she wailed, bowing deep, looking ashamed of herself. “I'm sorry I let you down, Light-kun – I... I have fallen for someone else... Please don't hate me!”

 

Light's head was swimming; he was shocked beyond words, and his mind was looking for a solution for the situation – was it another calamity? Or a blessing? What now? What now?

 

“.. What now?” was, eventually, what emerged from his mouth.

 

“I – I don't know,” Misa said miserably. “Obviously I'm not abandoning you – I still support you with all my heart... I'll do whatever you wish. But I don't think I can play the part of your girlfriend anymore.”

 

Rem, Light thought wildly. Misa's love had been his only shield against Rem – but no, she said she still loved him, still cared about him, surely the Shinigami wouldn't dare to kill him? What mattered to her the most was Misa's happiness – whoever she had fallen for could probably make her happier than he ever could have...

 

But to leave such a dangerous woman unsupervised? If she started dating someone else, she would no longer be under his control, it would be suspicious of him to keep too much in touch with her – she could cause irreparable damage, could be caught, could even get killed if she got too careless – Rem would blame it on Light -

 

... but the Eyes...

 

Oh, bugger.

 

“Misa,” he said finally, “I think you should... forfeit the Note.”

 

Her eyes widened. “What? Why? No, Light-kun, I swear I'll be good! I'm sorry I betrayed you -”

 

“No, it's not that,” Light interrupted her and raised his hands. “I think... you should focus on this new relationship. Be a normal girl. Date and enjoy your life as a soaring star... All that I could never offer you. When I took the responsibility of purging the world on my shoulders, I never intended for it to fall on anyone else's shoulders. You,” he smiled his trademark smile, the one that had once fooled Naomi Misora, and placed his hands on the girl's shoulders, “deserve to be happy.”

 

And, much to his own surprise, he meant every word.

 

Misa was blinking tears from her beautiful Shinigami eyes. “Oh, Light-kun,” she gasped, her voice cracking at the end, and threw her arms around his midriff. “You're the best! I love you so much! Thank you, thank you!”

 

Light smiled and, for the first time, he genuinely embraced the petite woman back. “It's okay. Just make sure you pick the right guy! If he makes you miserable, Kira might have to break his vow to only kill criminals...”

 

Misa laughed, mirth breaking through her tears, and grinned up at him. “Don't worry! Misa can take care of herself! Misa is very strong and won't let stupid boys treat her like a dishcloth!”

 

Light gave her a skeptical look, and she giggled. “Alright, Misa won't let anyone _else_ do that to her!” she consented, sticking out her tongue. It was strange how she could be incredibly childish and at the same time freely admit that she had always been aware that Light had been manipulating her, that she had allowed it because it fit her own purposes.

 

“Good to hear,” Light said, raising his cup of coffee to his lips and finding it cold. “Damn...”

 

Misa caught his free arm and started to head back to the house. “Let's go inside – Misa will make you a new cup of coffee and Light-kun can make up with Ryuzaki!”

 

“Great – wait, how did you know we fought?” Light stopped dead on his tracks, frowning at the girl. Had everyone heard? This was bad!

 

The blonde blew him a kiss. “Woman's intuition!” she claimed. “No, actually you just looked really sour when you came downstairs, and Ryuzaki wasn't with you, so of course you had fought. You always do. Is he really getting married?”

 

“What?” Light recoiled. “Married? Oh – you mean that – no, you just misunderstood something Mello said...”

 

“Really?” Misa looked, for some unfathomable reason, more pleased than disappointed that she wasn't going to be the world's best detective's bridesmaid (or... best maid?) like she clearly should have, as his newly found best friend. “Oh well, Misa's English isn't that great... But that's good for you, isn't it?”

 

Light stopped again. He had never in his life been shell-shocked so many times in such a short amount of time – and to think that it was Misa who caused it. “What do you -” he began, then shook his head and resumed walking. “No, actually, I don't think I want to know. I feel enough like an idiot already.” He chuckled and ruffled the model's hair as he passed her on the way to the front door. “Who's the lucky guy, anyway?”

 

Misa had the nerve to grin. “Hideki Ryuga,” she revealed. “My co-actor in the new movie.” Judging by her expression, she was well aware that the only Hideki Ryuga Light had ever met was currently sulking upstairs and probably drowning his bad mood in sugar, and the irony didn't go entirely unnoticed by her.

 

Light had to admit there was a feeling of the circle closing in it. Something, at least, was going right.

 

\---

 

“Oh,” said Near, looking out from the kitchen window, “Mello in a drag with Light.”

 

Because this was the first thing to greet L when he entered the kitchen, it caused – quite understandably – him to stop at the doorway. “... Excuse me?” he asked, blinking.

 

However, his question went completely unnoticed because the very second Near had uttered his words, every single female being present – even little Kelly – had squealed unexpectedly, rushed first to the window and then out of the kitchen, drowning his feeble words in the stomping of their feet. They had barely gotten out when Mello returned, looking a little surprised to find the kitchen so deserted when he had only been absent for two short minutes for the bathroom.

 

“Where did everyone -?” he began, but Matt interrupted him.

 

“Oh, Mello!” the redhead wailed, throwing his arm theatrically across his face. “You slimy Casanova! I thought we had something special, and the moment I turn my back, you seduce the first hot Asian that crosses your path!”

 

By now, Mello looked positively alarmed. L couldn't really blame him. “Huh?”

 

“No!” Matt gasped, turning his face away from the flabbergasted blond. “Don't even try to explain! It's over between us, you hear me – over! And to steal the boyfriend of your own brother – you really are the lowest! Shame on you!”

 

Mello turned to look at L. “... What has he eaten?”

 

L blinked. “Apparently,” he replied in monotone, “you have seduced my boyfriend. According to my understanding of social relationships, we are not on speaking terms for now.”

 

“... _What?!_ ”

 

L wasn't sure what made him say that. He had come downstairs in search of Light, feeling quite miserable and confused and having no idea what to say to the brunet, but he found that the mere absurdity of the situation was lifting his spirits. Social skills, he told himself. Social skills and a little bit of humor, perhaps – maybe he could tackle the problem with Light with those weapons as well?

 

“That's right,” Matt sniffled dramatically, throwing a betrayed look at Mello. “So because you pulled such a low trick, I'm going to steal your other brother as revenge!”

 

Near turned back from the window, where he had been following something apparently quite interesting that took place in the backyard. “I'm dating now?” he asked, looking mildly surprised.

 

“Hell no!” Mello exploded.

 

“Yes, you are,” Matt faked a shuddering sigh.

 

“You are not,” L intervened hastily. Matt and Mello may have been at a _certain age_ as Light had put it, but Near most certainly was not!

 

“Yes he is,” Mello shot automatically, used to having to tell L it had all been Near's fault, “... not!”

 

“Apparently I am,” Near mused.

 

“At least not my – I mean, at least not Matt! Date someone else if you have to!”

 

“Your what?” Matt cocked an eyebrow.

 

“Hey, guys...”

 

L turned with the others to look at the kitchen door; Light stood there with a full coffee cup in his hands, a winter coat draped over his shoulders, looking disturbed. “Could anyone give me a short account as to why a pack of girls just flooded out of the house and started chasing Misa?”

 

“I'm not talking to you,” Matt sniffed. “You stole my boyfriend!”

 

Light's jaw attempted to dive into the coffee cup. “Why on Earth would I want Mello?” he blurted out.

 

Mello bristled. “Well thank _you_ , Fagami! And why the hell did you automatically assume that I'm Matt's boyfriend, anyway?”

 

“Who else?” Light shot back before noticing L and freezing.

 

L looked back at him and, not for the first time, found the words _I'm sorry_ sticking to his tongue like glue, refusing to come out. The three other boys present had already noticed his uncomfortable silence and turned to look at him before he could finally force something out of his mouth.

 

“I'm not talking to you, either,” his voice said. “I heard you cheated on me with Mello.”

 

He slapped his hand on his mouth after realizing what he had just said – naturally right after a huge row – and willed the floor to open and swallow him. Mello was howling his denial, Matt was sniggering, his role as the betrayed lover forgotten.

 

Light was staring at him, his golden eyes as unreadable as his own were at their best. Then, suddenly, he grinned, flashing a row of white teeth and promising to 'never do it again'; L felt his heartbeat pick up at the sight, and the corners of his mouth twitched upwards.

 

“I'm not sure I want to take any part in this dating business after all,” Near murmured. “Seems way too bothersome to me...” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first time I published this, some people felt that Light should have been angry at L for a longer time, and that L had been a massive jackass to him. While I agree that L screwed up quite royally, please remember that L knows for a fact that Light has already killed in the hundreds, that he has also killed people with no criminal background (the FBI agents), and although L likely doesn’t know it, he must at least suspect that Naomi Misora’s disappearance means that Light killed her, an innocent and a bystander, as well. All that and Light’s canonical character taken into account, it’s not that far-fetched that L would assume that Light wouldn’t shy away from threatening the lives of children to achieve his goals. For the same reason, for Light to remain angry at L for much longer would have been a little hypocritical of him. Thus, I chose to resolve the situation with relatively little drama (or, well, covered by a different sort of drama), and also because I felt that both had miscalculated, both had misspoken, and both just wanted things to go back to the way they’d been just before the fight. This fight was meant to be a turning point: for L to realize that Light may, in fact, be serious about their relationship, and for Light to essentially realize the same – that he might actually care more about L than his mission as Kira.


	13. Warrior Hearts

 

 

Chapter 13

**Warrior Hearts**

 

When the bells chimed for noon, Christmas Eve had already seen one relationship between two allies come to an end and another between two former arch enemies broken and mended.

 

Frankly, L was surprised no more damage had been caused.

 

However, all the excitement with relationships, haunted houses and gingerbread cookies had wiped the presents happily out of his mind, and that was why, while the rest of the inhabitants of the house were relaxing after dinner, he was sitting on the floor in his room, surrounded by a pile of presents, wrapping paper, tape, paper string and scissors, frantically trying to get all twenty-five presents wrapped.

 

A sound from the door caused him to start and throw himself to cover as much of the presents as he could before actually turning to look over his shoulder. Light stared back at him with a curious expression.

 

“Oh, it's you,” L said, daring to breathe again.

 

Light blinked. “You know, I never thought I'd see the day when you sound relieved that it's me and not someone else that steps into the room when you're doing something secret.” He cocked a brow and leaned a bit to the side to see past the detective. “What are you hiding, anyway...?”

 

“Nothing,” the detective replied, sitting up again. “Just the presents... I thought you were one of the children.”

 

Light looked surprised, and the look turned into that of slight despair when he realized how many of them L still had left to wrap in papers. “Aren't you perhaps a little late here?”

 

L glowered at the younger man from beneath his bangs and turned back to the work-site. “Well, if Light-kun hadn't been _distracting_ me for the last few days...!”

 

The younger man was silent for a moment, letting him work in peace; then L heard steps and the next thing he knew, Light was kneeling next to him and reaching for the scissors.

 

“Here, let me help.”

 

The detective watched in awe as the younger man's long fingers rolled a teddy bear neatly in silvery-blue wrappings and tied a beautiful bow on top of it. He had clearly done this before.

 

“Hey...” he suddenly found himself saying quietly, leaning a little closer. “Is Light-kun still mad at me?”

 

The auburn-haired man turned to look at him in surprise, and his surprised seemed to intensify at finding L so close to him. “Ah... I wasn't really... mad, you know. Just a bit... sad, I guess.” He smiled a little.

 

L hesitated. _I'm sorry_ seemed like an appropriate thing to say, but like before, he found that the words tried to crawl back down his throat whenever he attempted to say them while actually meaning them.

 

Okay, so he could apologize when he didn't think he had anything to apologize for, and couldn't when he certainly had reason to? He was a liar through and through...

 

He hadn't said anything particularly mean, just implied it, so he couldn't mention he hadn't meant his words, either. Hmm. This was proving a bit tricky... Unless... “I hope Light-kun doesn't think too little of me for... uh...” he trailed off in the middle of his sentence and was mortified to feel an unfamiliar warmth creeping upwards on his face, suddenly quite embarrassed by his earlier behavior.

 

“... for offering me sex in exchange for the safety of the people you care about?”

 

L blinked. “You don't have to put it like that,” he said, pouting a little. “Besides, I did not offer you sex, only my obedience. _You_ turned it into sex.”

 

Light chuckled, shaking his head, and reached up to stroke the detective's face with his fingertips. The man flinched when he raised his hand and shot him a stunned look when he settled to brushing his fingers against his skin.

 

“L Lawliet, I think I love you.”

 

L's mouth went dry.

 

“Because why else,” the younger man continued, leaning forward, “would it have hurt so much that you didn't want me?”

 

His lips were almost on L's now, but the detective felt there was a wrong to be righted before anything could happen, so quickly he breathed out, “I never said I didn't.”

 

Light stopped and blinked. “You didn't?”

 

“Never,” L confirmed. “Though I admit that your advances made me very uncomfortable, but you know I'm not largely into social and physical contact. Until you came along, I used to avoid both like plague.”

 

It was Light's turn to look hesitant. “Let me make this clear. You don't...”

 

“I can't say I don't want you around,” the detective said hastily, forcing the words out of his mouth before he could rethink them.

 

“But you can't say you want me around, either,” Light finished, looking at him with a thoughtful look in his golden eyes.

 

L grimaced. “You must understand,” he tried to explain, “I have never been a very emotional person. The only emotions I am familiar with are anger – because someone defied me or hurt my pride, never for anything else – and the protective attachment I feel for this family of orphans. On top of that, I have always done my best to not exist as a person.” He frowned slightly, hovering over the scissors and wrappings and tape in his trademark crouch, arms resting on his knees and chin propped up against them. “I... frankly, I have no idea what it is that I'm feeling now, you confuse the hell out of me and it frustrates and intrigues me immensely.”

 

There was a short silence, and then Light was snaking his arm around L's shoulders and pulling him a little closer. “Then,” the younger man said softly, “I guess we're in this together. As you've pointed out earlier, whatever emotions I've showed earlier in my life have been mostly a lie, so I'm as much at a loss with actual feelings as you are...”

 

L felt his lips twitch at that. “But of course...”

 

“But,” Light interrupted, lifting his index finger, “unlike you, I can at least identify my feelings. Pray tell me, do you ever feel like you could just stare at me for hours and hours?”

 

L blinked. “Of course – and I have! - you're my suspect -”

 

“Because I do, I could spend hours just looking at you,” Light interrupted again. “Does your heart beat a little faster when I'm around?”

 

“Naturally,” L replied dryly, “Light-kun's presence means I'm in mortal danger...”

 

“Mine does, too, and not because you could sentence me to death,” the young man replied calmly. “And does your breath ever hitch when I do – this?” And suddenly he leaned forward and pecked the detective on the left cheekbone.

 

L started at the sudden move and leaned back, his fingers rising automatically to touch the spot Light had kissed. “I – I'm unaccustomed to human contact! Light-kun shouldn't do that without a warning!”

 

But the younger man just smiled wryly. “Ever feel miserable when I'm not around?”

 

L frowned at him, trying his best to remain aloof and professional. “Well, there haven’t been that many occasions for that to happen, but -”

 

“Well, Mr Lawliet,” Light interrupted again, taking a very serious expression. “I have examined you carefully, and based on your symptoms – you have trouble keeping your mind and your eyes off something, your heart beats unevenly and you often have trouble with breathing, not to mention the amount of denial and excuses you keep spouting – you are very likely to have a serious case of _love sickness_. Would you like to take the test to make sure?”

 

L blinked at Dr Yagami's surprising diagnosis, and for a moment he could do nothing but stare.

 

“Showing symptom number one again,” Light noted gently.

 

“Who are you and what have you done to my Light?” L asked incredulously. “The Light I know takes everything and especially himself very seriously, hardly knows how to joke unless it's to charm someone, and would never be so quick to forgive someone who only a few hours earlier insulted him, even though it was by accident.”

 

… Had he just described himself or Light?

 

Light smiled, looking a little confused himself but more than a little pleased. “Perhaps I just needed someone to play with,” he suggested.

 

“I'm not your toy,” L shot back, his anger flaring again.

 

“Thank all gods, no. But you do make an excellent playmate.” The playful look in Light's eyes softened into something different – something that might have been insecurity had it been in anyone else's eyes.

 

“L, you told me I could try to convince you of my feelings, and I can't help feeling that I've messed up quite royally... but it seems to me that in the end, whatever I do will have very little effect unless I manage to convince you of your own feelings, first. There aren't many things I can promise to you that you would believe for now, but one of them is that you'll never, _never_ be bored with me.”

 

And that was when L Lawliet finally began to understand that the reason this young man had occupied his thoughts every second of his waking time ever since they had met was not that he was a perfect suspect. The dawning was slow and tentative – not much more than the seeds of the idea of actually falling in love planted somewhere in the darkness of his subconscious – but it brought something to the surface.

 

“I'm afraid,” the detective said simply. “We started out as the worst of enemies, and when it ends that's what we will be again. You know we are bound to clash at some point. I can't remain prisoner forever, and I can't imagine you giving up your crusade for me. How could it ever work?”

 

Light smiled a little, and it was a heart-wrenchingly sad smile. “You've been as good as dead for twenty-something years, L, and I haven't been much better. Perhaps we should give life a try and just see what happens. You've studied psychology – you know people sometimes do the craziest things for love.”

 

“Or for what they believe is love.”

 

“What does it matter? If you sacrifice something important to you because you believe you love someone, then it is love and it's strong enough, even if others shake their heads and call it a mere crush or an infatuation.”

 

“Philosophical, Light-kun,” L smiled.

 

“You started it,” Light defended.

 

And L thought about the feel of Light's breath ghosting against the back of his neck when he snuggled too close to sleep, and about his cold fingers clutching his equally cold ones in the chocolate shop, and about his protective embrace in the haunted house, and about the kiss under the snowfall the night before, and he had to turn his head away so Light wouldn't see his smile…

 

“... Would Light-kun be so kind and help me with the presents?”

 

… Though he could probably hear it in his voice, anyways, and when Light handed him the scissors, took the tape, held the strings in place while L made a miserable attempt at tying a bow, the detective was fairly sure he could almost feel the younger man's answering smile in his touch.

 

And he certainly could feel it on the lips that pressed gently against his temple and whispered, “You're precious.”

 

\---

 

“Hey, L.”

 

L blinked and lifted his gaze from the sudoku he was finishing to find that Matt had abandoned his place next to Mello and Near, who were playing Monopoly with Light, watched by Misa, and had come to lounge on the left armrest of his armchair. “Hi, Matt,” he replied, smiling a little.

 

“Nine,” the redhead informed him after glancing at the magazine over his shoulder. “And five in the upper left corner.”

 

The detective was very close to rolling his eyes. “Oh, thank you, Great Matt, Prophet of Mello! I would have never reached this conclusion without your God-given intelligence to guide me.”

 

“Hey, don't let the 'three best detectives in the world' thing get to your head. Give your little bros a chance, too, okay?” Matt grinned, ruffling the man's raven black hair affectionately. “And that's a four in the middle...”

 

L had to chuckle a little at that, and the brotherly gesture made him feel a little warmer. Before, he had never stopped to consider feelings like this – no, actually he had dismissed them as signs of approaching flu – but after the emotional mess Light had dragged him through he could finally recognize, analyze and appreciate the feeling. He was an orphan with no living relatives, but it felt good to know he had people who cared about him like a family member might have.

 

“What's this?” he smiled slightly. “Have your games actually left some room for human contact? Zombies and monsters not enough?”

 

“Nah,” the redhead replied easily, “you're a special case. Near's too, sometimes, and I don't think I even need to mention Mello. He's scarier than the zombies and monsters, anyway.” He leaned over to snatch the magazine from the detective. “Light's okay, too. You can keep him if you like him.”

 

L blinked, a little amused and a little irritated by his brothers' new habit of intervening with his personal life. Well, not that there had been any before Light... “Light is my... very first friend,” he said, finally, looking over at the trio battling for the ownership of hotels and streets. Near seemed to be winning.

 

Matt glanced at him and grinned a little. “Who exactly do you think you're fooling?”

 

Well, _that_ was sort of unexpected. L could feel a blush attempting to creep to his face and battled it down before it could surface. “I'm afraid I don't follow.”

 

“Come on,” Matt laughed – but quietly, without drawing the attention of the other kids lounging in the room to them. “You have this stupid tiny little smile on your face when you look at him. You're considerate towards him. You let him tell you off for not wearing a scarf. You allow him to hold your hand. You actually _fight_ with him – that is, he can break through all that cool-and-distant-detective stuff and make you angry. And, oh, we saw you kiss yesterday...”

 

“You saw?” L asked, mortified.

 

“You knew we were all looking,” Matt said reproachfully. “Mello and Near and I had barely enough time to make the kids leave in time when we realized you were getting serious and lovey-dovey! Kelly saw, though. She was too small, we totally missed her standing there. We told her Light gave you mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.”

 

“Oh.” L blinked. “Why would he have done that?”

 

“Because you were freezing to death because of not wearing any socks. Duh. Kelly was very worried and wanted to get the nurse.”

 

L stared at the boy for a moment, then glanced at Light, who was currently frowning as he tried to save his sinking ship of a hotel industry and was blissfully unaware of his supposed heroics, and then at Kelly, who was playing with Shane in the corner and was indeed sending worried glances his way every now and then.

 

And then... he was laughing.

 

One by one the other people in the room stopped whatever they were doing and turned to look at him; their awed stares only served to make L laugh more, and when even Watari, passing by the room, stopped and poked his head through the door to see if he had heard right, the detective doubled over his bent knees, one hand holding his stomach and the other raised to his mouth, laughing from the bottom of his heart for the first time in years.

 

“I know,” Matt said loudly so everyone could hear him, grinning with mischief glinting in his eyes, “My jokes are simply the best.”

 

Unlike L, the redhead didn't miss the look on Light's face – the younger man looked like Christmas had come earl-- wait, it was Christmas now, and it was not the slightest bit early (at least considering that L had put him on a vacation from video games until Christmas...) - but, well, anyway.

 

“What is so funny?” Mello asked, puzzled.

 

“Your face,” Matt was quick to reply blithely.

 

Mello had already raised his hands to touch his face before he remembered to flip him the finger and call him a bitch under his breath.

 

“Matt! Matt! L can't breathe!” Kelly fretted, tugging at L's jeans, her big eyes wide with horror as he watched the detective gasp for breath as he laughed. “Mr. Light, you need to do that thing again!”

 

“What thing?” the Asian man asked, confused.

 

“That thing that looks like kissing!”

 

Now everyone was looking at Light instead of L, Misa with a wide, victorious grin as she mouthed, ' _Again?_ '. The look on Light's face was priceless – shock, embarrassment, mirth and amusement at the same time. “But,” he teased the girl, “I'm afraid if I do that I'll take even the rest of his breath away...”

 

Somehow, that seemed to make Misa's grin even wider.

 

Kelly was aghast. “You're really bad at saving lives,” she judged him with all the severity of a little girl, and then turned imperiously to Matt. “Matt! You need to do it!”

 

Now it was Matt’s face that was priceless – at least judging by Light's grin, Near's amused expression and the strange mixture of a smirk and a frown on Mello's face. “Hey, now, honey, L's just fine -”

 

“Yes,” L gasped, his laughing fit finally beginning to fade. “I'm alright, Kelly.” Then, inspired by the champagne-like feeling of bubbling happiness the laughing had left behind and the warm feeling in his chest caused by the little girl's worry, he added, “If you give me a hug, I'll be absolutely perfect.”

 

Relieved and beaming because she apparently had healing powers she hadn't known of, Kelly reached up to hug him, planted a sloppy kiss on his cheek, and then ran happily back to Shane, who was waiting expressionlessly with the Barbie dolls. L smiled and sat back in his chair; he had the most strange and exhilarating feeling that he had just laughed every single drop of sadness and depression out of his body.

 

Slowly, everyone returned to what they had been doing; L and Matt returned to the sudoku, Light and Mello turned back to the game to find that Near had ruthlessly demolished their hotels while their attention had been elsewhere, but Misa kept looking at L with a soft smile on her lips. Suddenly, she got up, walked up to the detective's chair, and leaned down to give him a quick kiss on the forehead, effectively startling both him and Matt out of the world of numbers.

 

“I'm sorry I was always so mean to you,” she said, smiling and ruffling his hair quickly before turning around and returning to the table where Light and Mello were trying to save their empires, leaving L to stare after her.

 

“Hey, L,” Matt said softly, “I'm happy you've gotten new friends.”

 

“Yeah,” L replied without thinking, looking at the table where Light and Mello finally joined forces to fight Near together, while Misa picked up a magazine and dove into the secrets of British celebrities. “Friends...”

 

The rest of the evening was uneventful and peaceful – for years to come, it would remain in L's mind as an example of the perfect Christmas Eve with his family and friends. As Watari came in to inform the children that it was time for bed, Kelly protested and demanded a story before it; this time, L and Light refused to cooperate, but Misa turned out to be willing to tell one, although her spoken English was a little broken and heavily accented. Most of the children were fluent in Japanese – L's mother had been half-Japanese so he had insisted that everyone in the House was taught the language – so when her memory failed her, she could resort to her first language.

 

L and Light had moved onto the couch, and this time L didn't try to scoot away when Light reached out to wrap his arm around his shoulders. Children climbed into their laps and clung to their arms as they settled to listen to Misa's story about a young samurai called Matsuda, who tried several ways to prove his worth as a warrior to his king, Soichiro, and failed miserably every single time.

 

L and Light listened with even greater interest than the children (mostly because they had no difficulty imagining Matsuda in a samurai outfit, parading around the world and failing at most things that didn't involve making coffee), laughing when the young samurai saved Princess Sayu from a vile thief only to find out she was already engaged (at this point, L felt Light tense by his side, and thought that the girl was in for a real interrogation once Light got home), chuckling at his attempt to fight the evil dragon Aizawa, who wasn't evil after all but simply missing his family, and grinning when Matsuda accidentally tripped the stone-faced wizard Mogi and broke the curse of muteness that had been cast on him by another wizard.

 

Their grins vanished the second the samurai met two young men called Ryuga and Tsuki, the latter of which turned out to be King Soichiro's son, who had run away from home the year before. Ryuga had been hired to find and bring him back, but eventually they had fallen in love and were now on the run together.

 

(“Were they boy lesbians?” was Kelly's question, this time. She was hushed before Matt and Mello could offer her any more crooked information.)

 

At this point Light slid his arm from around L's shoulders, instead lowering his hand to take L's hand in it. The detective's fingers met his between the two children perched on their laps, and they were both very happy that that Misa had picked names that most of the children wouldn't attach to them.

 

Near, Mello and Matt did, of course, and they could feel the trio's eyes on them as Misa continued her story.

 

Matsuda's adventures went on and on, and eventually they led him to the mountains, where a snowstorm caught him and the poor man almost perished. When he lay shivering in a cold, icy cave he had managed to find for his shelter, the spirit of a young woman appeared to him, giving the story a very characteristic Japanese turn, despite the dragons and the damsels in distress.

 

“The woman had been a priestess in a nearby temple several decades ago, but her spirit still lingered to guide lost travelers,” Misa narrated in a quiet, soft voice, and L had to admit that the girl did have a gift for acting; everyone in the room was staring at her, transfixed by her voice, her story, and her eyes that took an oddly crimson shade in the eerie light the fireplace cast in the room. “Matsuda was lucky, because she was one of the few spirits around the mountains that didn't try to...” She trailed off, looking for the correct words. “... receive an innocent traveler.”

 

“Deceive,” Light muttered under his breath.

 

“Deceive a traveler.” Misa beamed. “Instead, she told him that his quest to prove himself as a warrior was over, and that he... had done well.” L was almost certain that for a moment, the girl had been about the say that the samurai had been well-done, but had luckily chosen the other option. “Matsuda had saved the life of another man's fiancée, gaining nothing in return. He had helped the village terrorized by a fearsome dragon understand that the dragon missed his family just like any human might, and as a result the dragon Aizawa's family was allowed to join him in exchange for his promise to guard the village. He had freed the wizard Mogi from his curse, only asking in return that he devote his powers to help the people in his lands. He had let the runaway lovers stay as such, even though as King Soichiro's man he should have beheaded the traitorous Ryuga and dragged Tsuki home.”

 

“'Warriors', the spirit priestess said, 'are only supposed to fight when it's inevitable.'” Misa smiled at them. “'A true warrior of justice is the one that can protect love and peace without resorting to violence. True heroes are not measured by the strength of their arms, but by the strength of their hearts.'”

 

L was positive he felt Light's fingers twitch in his at that. Or had they been _his_ fingers?

 

The story concluded with Matsuda returning to his king, persuading the king to take both his son and the boy's lover back under his wing, attending Princess Sayu's wedding, and gaining the respect of his fellow warriors by being on such friendly terms with a wizard and a dragon, who often came to aid him in his later life. And so, unsurprisingly, the foolish young samurai turned into a smart middle-aged samurai, and then into a wise old samurai, and, in general -

 

“... They all lived happily ever after,” Misa finished softly.

 

There was a moment of silence while the children, the teenagers and the adults blinked back into the modern United Kingdom, the smallest raising their little fists to rub their eyes, though only to get the ancient Japan out of their eyes, if you asked them.

 

“That,” Mello decided, “was so hippie I can almost smell the flowers.”

 

“Nothing wrong with pacifism, Mello,” Matt reminded him calmly, “you should try it sometime. It's said to be great for your blood pressure.”

 

“What a beautiful story, Amane-san,” Watari commented from the doorway, only now making his presence known again – had he been there all along? The man wore a fatherly smile as he gestured at the children to indicate that now that the story was over, bedtime was due. “I especially enjoyed the characterization. Excellent work.”

 

One by one the children filed out of the room, most of them giving L a hug or a kiss on the way, a few stopping to do the same to Light – the Dinosaur Boy and Kelly leading the way – and after protesting for a while, giving in and wishing them good night, even the older ones, including Mello and Matt, shuffled upstairs. No one seemed to be particularly miserable about going to bed – after all, it was Christmas Eve.

 

Only Near stayed, already in his pajamas, curling up comfortably on the couch next to the Christmas tree, wrapped in the purple fleece blanket Mello had worn earlier, and apparently falling asleep immediately after the good nights and sleep tights. Light looked at him, then glanced at L with a puzzled expression and moved to gather the boy into his arms, blanket and all.

 

“No,” L whispered, stopping him with a touch to his arm. “Near always sleeps the night before Christmas here. He says he wants to catch Father Christmas in act.”

 

Light cocked a brow at that, but since L's smile was sincere (though more than just a bit amused), he supposed he had to believe him. Near really was a natural born detective, he thought as he allowed the boy's older brother lead him and his ex-girlfriend out of the room.

 

When L was sure he was alone with Light and Misa in the corridor, he subjected her to a long, searching gaze. “That was a very optimistic but undeniably sweet story, Misa-san.” He paused for a moment; Misa had to know he knew, right? “It seems that Misa-san has changed her views on the world recently,” he ventured, and Light elbowed him, though not particularly painfully.

 

“Oh,” Misa said with a dreamy smile on her lips, “it's just that I'm in love.”

 

She said it like it explained everything.

 

And after all that had happened after Light had learned his name, L was tentatively willing to believe that perhaps – just perhaps – it did.

 

After bidding Misa good night, the two young detectives dragged their feet to the third floor and into their room, where they quickly prepared for bed and then stopped, Light sitting on the edge of the bed and L standing awkwardly next to it, both of them looking a little hesitatant.

 

“I have slept so much lately,” L said, finally. “I don't think I can sleep much tonight...”

 

Light frowned, dug under the cover on his side of the bed and lay down on his back. “You're not going to work tonight, L,” he said, and it was the first time since leaving the Kira Building that he gave the detective a direct order. L flinched at that, and Light's expression softened. “It's Christmas, L,” he tried to appeal to his newly discovered emotional side.

 

“Yes,” L said slowly. He sighed; he had his rules, too. He had only worked once on Christmas, and that had been to catch a deranged murderer only minutes before he managed to reach his newest would-be victim. It had been a matter of time; now, the matter of time in his current case was how long it would take before he could officially give it up and publicly clear Light from suspicion.

 

Finally making his decision, L dug a book from the bottom of his luggage, stripped from his jeans, folded them unusually neatly on the back of the chair (feeling quite ceremonious and solemn as he did so) and then climbed into the bed, setting the book on the bedside drawer. Light's eyes followed him as he turned off the lamp, drew the covers up to his chin, and then they widened when he suddenly leaned in to kiss the younger man on the lips.

 

“I really don't think I can sleep much,” he murmured, resting his head on Light's shoulder and moving his hand slowly and tentatively to rest on his chest. He knew the boy could take his words for a permission he was not willing to give just yet, but he also knew he wouldn't – that he would know exactly what L meant. “But if you don't mind, I would like to just stay like this, at least for a while...”

 

Light's arms were already wrapping securely around him, and L had a sudden flashback of the few romantic novels he had read for research – at the moment, his photographic memory and overactive mind decided to feed him every single paragraph with clauses such as “the feel of his strong arms around her waist” or “she could hear his heart beating steadily in his broad chest – in fact, she could feel it against her skin”.

 

He was slightly embarrassed to find himself thinking of such cheesy, overly romantic lines while so comfortably snuggled in – oh, _bugger_ – Light's strong arms – and he was still so young, and so athletic – he would probably grow even stronger in time, broader and more handsome, while L was never going to grow any taller or wider than he was now, and for a moment he was slightly jealous, and for another he was thrilled at the thought that he was going to witness this beautiful boy growing into a gorgeous man.

 

And somewhere in the back of his mind, L was insanely happy that he could hear Light's heart beat, that he could feel his pulse against his cheek and against his waist where the younger man's wrist touched him.

 

\---

 

Much, much later that night, three stories below their room, Near stirred and opened one of his eyes at the sound of someone moving quietly over the floorboards, carefully avoiding the squeaky ones.

 

A slow, sleepy smile stretched the boy's white lips as he watched the slim figure work in the darkness, only illuminated by the electric candles decorating the Christmas tree. Every year he insisted on sleeping here to see Father Christmas; and every year he flitted into consciousness for long enough to see L instead, piling the presents under the tree. The cookie set on the table near the couch was always gone the next morning, but the sherry remained untouched from year to year – except for that one time, when the detective had lifted the glass to sniff at the liquid tentatively, and had put it back so quickly that some of it had spilled.

 

A yawn ratted him out to the man, who whirled around and stopped to stare at him in the dim room, as if the sudden sound had scared him. Then he could hear a low, soft chuckle, and when his eyes were drifting back closed, he felt the bony hands tugging the fleece blanket up to his chin again.

 

“Go back to sleep, Near,” the low voice whispered in his ear. “It's Christmas tomorrow.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tsuki, the name Misa gave Light in her story, obviously comes from another way to read his name, which is written with the kanji for “moon”, tsuki.


	14. The Time of Forgiveness

Chapter 14

**The Time of Forgiveness**

 

They had forgotten to close the curtains.

 

Christmas Day this year looked like it would turn out idyllic; the sky was a bright white tinted with gray – it reminded L of Near – and big, soft snowflakes were floating slowly downwards as he watched from his place on the bed. Light was still breathing steadily against the back of his neck, his arm resting heavily around the detective's waist, and L felt stupidly warm and content right there and then, under the blanket in Light's arms, watching the snow fall behind the window.

 

He had never understood the feeling of harmony that took over the orphanage at times – on those golden afternoons when the children lounged in silence, leaning against each other, happy to be simply for the sake of... being. Enjoying life just for the sake of being alive. L had always sensed the aura of serenity and happiness that took over the house on days like that, but he had never felt it himself – had never understood how nice _doing nothing_ could be.

 

He thought he understood now what it felt like to never want to get up and yet to be excited about the day.

 

Light's breathing rhythm changed slightly.

 

“Good morning, Light-kun,” L murmured.

 

The younger one responded with a long silence; then he gave a little soft laughter, and the arm around L's waist tightened, pulling L flush against his chest. “You're doing that again,” he muttered in a sleepy voice. “That... knowing instantly when I wake up thing. Morning.” A pair of lips pressed minutely against the back of his neck, and then they were replaced by the side of Light's face, still warm from sleep.

 

The smile that tugged at L's lips was so unexpected and uncontrollable that the detective had to fight an urge to raise his fingers to his lips to see if someone was indeed physically tugging at them.

 

\---

 

“Merry Christmas!” Matt greeted them when they entered the dining room an hour later, having taken their sweet time getting up and then the remaining five minutes to complete Light's usual 30-minute morning ritual in haste.

 

Mello's version of the greeting was more physical; there was a _woosh_ next to Light and suddenly there was only empty space where L had been a short moment ago. The detective was now sprawled on the floor, with the blond – still in black pajamas but with a red Christmas hat – sitting on top of him with a victorious grin on his face.

 

He stepped aside just in time before another _woosh_ went by; Misa skidded to a halt after failing to glomp him, looking slightly bummed.

 

“K.O.!” Mello exclaimed, punching the air with his fist. “Mello wins! Merry Christmas, L!”

 

“Misa is K.O.:ed, too,” Misa sighed, reminding Light of a droopy-eared puppy. Damn, L's orphans were teaching her bad manners!

 

“No more Tekken for you,” Light muttered; L simply covered his face with his hands and muttered something along the lines of 'pleasegivemestrengthtolivewiththem'.

 

“It's unfair, anyway!” Matt intervened from the table, sending hurt glances Mello's way. “Why do you have to play Tekken when I'm not allowed to play with you? That's like me munching chocolate right under your nose when you've just had your tooth removed and can't eat a thing!”

 

Mello looked at the redhead over his shoulder. “It's Christmas, idiot! You're allowed to play now, remember?”

 

The look of dawning realization on Matt's face – not covered by the goggles, which where resting on his forehead on top of a Santa hat that blended into his red hair – was priceless.

 

“Really, and you're supposed to be the third in line...” Snickering, Mello got up and helped L back to his feet as well; the detectives joined the others at the table, exchanging good mornings and merry Christmases with the other children and the members of the staff in the room.

 

“Dear Lord, L,” an elderly man sitting next to Watari said, adjusting his glasses and leaning a little closer as if to see better, “have you finally learned to sleep like an actual human being?”

 

“Or have you finally found your make-up remover?” Mello added under his breath.

 

L looked faintly irritated and yet amused as Light glanced at him to find that the bags under his eyes were indeed lighter than they had been when they had met. The change had been so gradual that he hadn't noticed it himself – but it must have been astounding to someone who only met L once or twice a year.

 

“Living with Light-kun may have affected my sleeping habits,” the detective admitted as he dropped a spoonful of porridge on his plate and then proceeded to hide it under sugar and jam. “I actually slept seven whole hours last night... I'm quite amazed.”

 

Light could see Near lift a brow and Mello whisper noisily to Matt, “Wonder what exhausted him so much...” and couldn't help but grin. After all, only a few days ago the blond had blanched away even at the mere thought of the two of them being romantically involved, and now he was cracking jokes – the way things were developing seemed excellent.

 

\---

 

“No no no no no! Don't do that!”

 

“Damn right I will – and I'll do it again, _there_!”

 

“Stop it! It's not _fair_ to kick an already beaten man!”

 

“Like _you_ wouldn't do just that -”

 

“A whole another matte-- NO! Look at what you've _done_!”

 

“I _won_. And guess what, Mels – I did it on _purpose_!”

 

“... I hate you...”

 

Light was the first to admit that western ways to celebrate Christmas were not his forte, but he was fairly certain that exchanges such as this were not usually involved.

 

Or then, he figured after barging into the room the voices had come from to tell Matt and Mello to stop fighting immediately, or then they were – at least in the form of Tekken.

 

Next to him, L looked a little troubled. “Could I interest you in playing something, ah, less violent on this day of forgiveness and, um, love?” he asked faintly; the two teenagers subjected him to a long, hard stare before deciding that the remark was probably only a poor joke and didn't deserve an answer, and then turning back to their game. “... I suppose not.”

 

Light shook his head. “Well, at any rate it's better that they're at each other’s throats only virtually...”

 

“Yes, but if Matt forgets to let Mello win every now and then, I'm afraid Mello will try to employ some of those tricks in real life,” L replied quietly, looking a little worried as they turned and left the room. “Oh well... I suppose they will forget about Tekken when it's time to open the presents...”

 

Right, Light had indeed seen the vast pile of presents under the Christmas tree – or rather, surrounding the Christmas tree. For orphans, these kids were certainly doing well on the presents department.

 

“I'm so disappointed,” he said, trying to form a pout as a couple of younger children skipped past them, “I thought Father Christmas would be here to give the presents...”

 

“Here he visits at night,” L explained, looking amused.

 

“And puts the presents in socks hung over the fireplace?” Light cocked a brow.

 

L's eyes glanced down at his own feet; Light made an understanding noise. “Ah. No socks.”

 

“No socks,” L verified.

 

“Yet another matter Yagami-kun could attempt to fix,” a voice said from behind them, “and receive my full support.”

 

The two young detectives turned, Light with a grin and L with a scowl, to look at Watari.

 

“I will do my best,” Light vowed solemnly, “but before I attempt to defeat the Sock Beast, I must direct my attentions to slaying the monster that has kept our precious L prisoner for years – Sugar!”

 

“Oh, now I'm a helpless princess in a tower, too? Being a cursed princess was not enough?” L murmured; Light winked and smirked at him.

 

Watari had had vast amounts of practice with holding his poker face while working with L, but this time Light was pretty sure the man was holding back a smile.

 

“To leave this uninteresting subject behind,” L continued, turning to Watari again, “thank you for putting the presents in place for me. I honestly did not expect to sleep all night.”

 

“Neither did I,” Light muttered, but trailed off at the puzzled look on Watari's wrinkled face.

 

“I... did not do that,” the elderly man said. “As a matter of fact, Near confirmed that a certain holiday-confused Jack Skellington acted as Father Christmas' substitute again this year... and ate the cookie but left the sherry.”

 

L looked slightly nettled. “I am _not_ holiday-confused -” he began, but Light silenced him with a frown and a finger on his lips.

 

“Your holiday identity aside, why would Near say that? I'm fairly certain L was in bed all night -”

 

“Light-kun knows this because?”

 

“I woke up a couple of times and saw you asleep, idiot...”

 

“Hey, L! Light-ooo!” Mello's voice called for them; the blond was peeking out of the room he had just been playing in. “Have you seen Near? It's his turn to get beaten by Matt!”

 

L and Light stared at the boy for a moment, and then turned to look at each other.

 

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Light stated glumly.

 

\---

 

“I had a feeling you'd be here.”

 

Not a lot of people had seen Beyond Birthday surprised, and even fewer had lived to tell about it.

 

Near had always been good at being an exception.

 

After hearing L say he had slept all night, it hadn't been hard to guess who it had been he had seen last night – there was only one person Near could confuse with L, even if that still required a very sleepy Near and a very dim room. It had been quite obvious where the other one was staying, too.

 

The Old Applegate House looked a lot less intimidating in bright daylight.

 

Beyond Birthday, unusually warmly dressed – probably because the house's heating system had crashed ages ago – in a long black sweater, jeans that could have been L's (actually, they probably had been before getting commandeered by the detective's copycat) and even a pair of socks to keep his toes from freezing off, was lounging on an old, ratty mattress he had dragged into the kitchen, where the stove could provide him with a little bit of heat. The serial killer was holding a yellowed book – the _Three Musketeers_ , the cover said in chipped golden letters – above his face, and he had clearly been reading until Near's unexpected arrival; now his only visible eye was gazing at the boy, the other eye hidden under the dark mass of his hair.

 

“What are you doing here?” Near sighed after a long silence. He wanted to ask if the man had been here the night they had explored the house as well, but decided that he probably did not want to know the answer.

 

Slowly, as if trying to appear non-threatening, the killer lowered the book onto his chest. “Well, I couldn't exactly send my Christmas presents by mail with a postcard saying, 'Merry Christmas, L!  Tell the kids I said hi! Love, BB', could I?” he replied. His voice was hoarse as if he hadn't used it for a while, and since the man was officially dead, Near presumed that was indeed the case. Going public under a disguise would be a lot more difficult now that so much of his skin was covered in scar-tissue from his failed immolation scene; the left hand was even now hidden under a glove, and the left side of his face was covered with his hair.

 

Then it _had_ indeed been B Near had seen last night. “Is there anything explosive among the presents?” he asked suspiciously.

 

Beyond had the nerve to look hurt. “What, me? Sending innocent orphans presents that might blow up? I'm deeply wounded, Near! Though,” he added with a thoughtful look in his eyes, “now that you mentioned it, if one were to take bits of _your_ present and combine them with -”

 

“No one takes bits of my presents and lives,” Near declared uncharacteristically sternly.

 

Beyond simply grinned his unnerving, a-bit-too-wide grin at that.

 

“I'm surprised, though,” Near commented after a while. “I would have thought that if you turned out to be alive, you wouldn't come here to just read the _Three Musketeers_...”

 

“It's Christmas,” Beyond quipped, a bit too lightly. “The time of forgiveness, blah blah. So I'm being forgiving. For now.”

 

_So even you get lonely_ , Near mused, and while it was surprising, it sort of made sense. Even Beyond, he supposed, would miss what had once been his home and family, especially after three years of isolated incarceration followed by months of self-imposed isolation on the run. Even Beyond might find himself gravitating towards that ghost of home and hearth, for no other reason but the simple longing to belong somewhere, to be welcome somewhere, particularly now that the weather was cold, and the world around him was preparing to hold the cold at bay by huddling together with their friends and family.

 

“And after Christmas?” Near had to ask.

 

The serial killer turned to look at the ceiling, shrugging the best he could while lying on his back. “Who knows? L looks different. Happy. Perhaps I'll let him be happy for a while longer.” He flashed the boy an unsettling grin. “Hurts more when it all ends, right?”

 

But the final words seemed to lack the expected malice.

 

Strange, Near thought, he would have thought B would be furious that L was apparently not at all devastated by his faked death – and then he thought, what if, hypothetically, the snow that had fallen over his shoulders from the three behind which he had been hiding while listening to L's monologue on Light only a few days ago – _what if_ that snow had fallen because someone had been hiding in the midst of its massive branches, also eavesdropping...

 

Also hearing how L felt about Light – Kira...

 

The ring tone of his cell phone interrupted his musings, and thinking sourly that it was only fitting that unlike a few nights before, the reception was just fine now, he answered. “Hello?”

 

“ _Hello, Near. It's_ -”

 

\---

 

“... L. Where are you?”

 

“ _At the Applegate House_ ,” Near replied, and L felt a shiver run down his spine at the mention of the place. As if hearing it, the boy reminded him, “ _It's nothing but an old house during day, L_...”

 

“I know, I know,” the detective muttered a little defensively, glaring at Light, whose worried look was beginning to morph into curiosity. “... Is he there?”

 

“... _He_?”

 

“You know your innocence act doesn't work on me.”

 

“... _He is here._ ”

 

“Good. Let me talk to him.”

 

Ignoring Light's whispered questions, L focused on keeping his voice level and absolutely expressionless; he was quite satisfied with how he had managed thus far, even though his heart was hammering wildly. Based on Near's remark that he had seen “L” bring the presents, he had known instantly who the starring guest today was, and the knowledge that Beyond Birthday was skulking around combined with the news that Near was missing...

 

He had been so _afraid_.

 

He still was, but not so much for Near's safety – the boy was as good at speaking in monotone as he was, but he was sure there would have been a different edge to the boy's voice had he been in any real danger – but of the approaching confrontation with B.

 

It had been so long since he'd talked to the man -

 

“ _Hello, L_.”

 

L's blood froze at the sound of the dry voice. Even after all this time...

 

_He's only an orphan_ , the detective told himself strictly. _Only a lost soul. Only an orphan, just like you_...

 

Light's arms came around his waist, and he could breathe again.

 

“Hello,” he replied, but it came out barely above a whisper.

 

He could hear the other man give a dry little laughter. “ _Miss me_?”

 

“Yes,” he found himself saying, and Beyond fell silent for a moment.

 

“... _Why_?”

 

L's lips felt dry. “I have no idea,” he replied honestly. “But recently, I have come to notice...” He hesitated for a moment, highly aware of the warm arms around him and the curious eyes on him, both encouraging him on and holding him back. “... I have noticed that missing someone for no apparent reason,” he finally got out, the words tumbling past his lips as an almost unintelligible string, “means you care about them.”

 

Beyond said nothing to that, and somewhere in the back of his mind L performed a childish little victory dance over silencing him. _Ha_.

 

“Who is it?” Light was whispering in his ear, making a show of frowning and looking jealous. The younger man was obviously imagining a former lover and feeling jealous, but at the same time he seemed to realize that since L had made it very clear that he had never been in a relationship like this, he had no reason for jealousy.

 

L found the expression of mock-jealousy strangely endearing.

 

For whatever reason, Light's expression and Beyond's silence made him feel better about the situation, and his back even straightened slightly. “Now,” he said, and finally he didn't have to put much effort into sounding calm, “why don't you escort Near here and join us in celebrating Christmas?”

 

This time, B's silence was obviously stunned. “... _You would have a murderer under your roof on Christmas_?”

 

“Technically, it's Watari's roof,” L replied, “and I already do, as you should know if you have been lurking around for the past week as I suspect. You can talk to each other.”

 

Light frowned, for real this time. He had apparently guessed L was talking about him.

 

“Besides,” L continued, finding he rather enjoyed shocking two of his worst adversaries, “it's Christmas. The time of forgiveness and love, right?”

 

\---

 

Beyond and Near arrived thirty minutes later; Near was instantly spirited away by Mello and Matt, who wanted him to determine the winner of their upcoming match, but Beyond stayed behind, lurking in the shadows the door cast over the threshold, even more hunched over than L was and with his red-eyed gaze flitting from place to place in a suspicious way.

 

“Please come in,” L said after holding the door open for him for a while, slightly irritated. “My toes are getting cold.”

 

Beyond glared at him from underneath his bangs, stuffed his hands deeper into his pockets and, in Light's opinion, looked very much like a sulking teenager going through his emo phase. The notion was, especially after what L had told him after the phone call, both disturbing and hilarious.

 

L was glowering back at the other man. “Beyond, get in or I'll shut the door and leave you outside,” he demanded, and Light could easily imagine them ten years younger and having a battle of wills in a situation just like this at some point of L's mysterious past. Acting like brothers... until one of them had chosen to pursue a career of justice, and the other the blood-red trail of crime.

 

Suddenly the scene unfolding before him seemed more bittersweet than funny; it put a sad smile on his lips.

 

“Boys,” a gentle but strict voice boomed suddenly from behind him, “That's quite enough. Beyond, get inside before we freeze to death. L, stop bossing others around.”

 

Apparently, Watari still saw the two as a pair of quarreling teenagers. There was something slightly sad and slightly endearing about the way L started and blinked at the words, and about the way Beyond flinched and tried to withdraw deeper into the shadows, and Light couldn't help but grin a little. Watari had realized that Beyond hesitated stepping openly into this house after betraying them so brutally, had realized how hard it was for L to just say it was alright, to say the other one was temporarily forgiven, and as always, he had the words to deal with it.

 

Carefully, almost timidly, Beyond Birthday stepped over the threshold and stood there shooting wary glances at Watari while L closed the door. Light got the impression that the deranged serial killer feared nothing and no one in the world, except for the man who had raised him.

 

He had, after all, been a failed experiment. For an orphan, the weight of this man's judgment must have been enormous, and it still showed in his behavior.

 

But Watari, as always, simply smiled like he had known all along that they would all end up celebrating Christmas together, detectives and killers and innocent and not so innocent children alike, and nodded at the man and said, “Welcome home, B.”

 

Beyond smirked and gave his thanks with an elegant, taunting bow, but Light had seen the fleeting look in his only visible eye, and he knew just how much those words had meant to the homeless murderer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: As the focus of this story is on family, humor and romance, B will remain uncharacteristically non-murderous in this one. Him spending Christmas with the others is a temporary truce, a result of what Near mused earlier in the chapter: even murderers get lonely and miss their families; and of Watari and L’s actions: even murderers have families that still love them to some extent. And after contemplating it for a while, I decided (years ago) to portray his obsession with L as completely platonic in this fic, because the story is drawing to a close and I didn’t want to get into jealousy and bloodshed. I’m sorry if you’re disappointed in his role, but luckily, there are plenty of other fics where he gets to play the bad guy role!


	15. A World of Our Own

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: As I was writing this chapter at the beginning of 2011, my Grandfather had just passed away, quite unexpectedly. My grief affected the way I wrote this chapter, and as I feel that writing it helped me work through my pain in a productive, healthy way, which in turn gave this chapter a sort of beauty that I would have otherwise been unable to accomplish, I left this chapter practically untouched on my editing round. In tribute to my Grandpa, who could be funny and stern at the same time, who could be absolutely ridiculous and silly and yet the wisest man I’ve yet to meet, and whom I still miss terribly, I altered my original plan for this chapter a little, reducing the amount of conflict and omitting a discussion I had planned between B and Light, and emphasizing instead the relationship between Watari and his adopted family, as well as other family-related aspects. The chapter, I hope, comes across as slightly bittersweet, but also serene and sweet and, at times, even funny – just like my memories of childhood summers spent at my grandparents’.

Chapter 15

**A World of Our Own**

 

“Yaaaaaarrr! Graugh! Mrruaagh!” roared Tyrannosaurus Rex.

 

“Red alert! Red alert! Mars attacks!” a World War II soldier called into his radiophone.

 

“Oh, no!” cried Barbie. “I can't run in these heels! Optimus, carry me to safety on your strong arms!”

 

“Miss, I'm afraid I have no time for such frivolous actions,” Optimus Prime replied in monotone. “I'm currently in the middle of the process of saving the world.”

 

“And in any case,” Sephiroth decided to offer his opinion, “you're doing it wrong, Barb. Optimus here is supposed to say, heroically, 'Go, my friends! Get into the car! I'll handle this! If I'm not back in five minutes, leave without me!' and _you're_ supposed to say, 'No, Optimus! You mustn't sacrifice yourself! Please come with us! Besides, you _are_ our getaway car!'”

 

“Mello,” Matt groaned, “you're ruining Sephiroth. Give him _back_.”

 

“What?” Mello clutched the plastic Sephiroth figurine tighter and tried the innocent eyes, but Matt had been his roommate for too long to fall for that. Behind him, Near, Kelly, the Dinosaur Boy (he was apparently very fond of reptiles) and Kyle turned back to their play, voting Mello out for being, well, Mello.

 

“But isn't Sephy a villain?” the blond tried to reason. “There are children present, so this time he's only going to be a sarcastic bitch. No bloodshed! _The Mello Show Christmas Special_ is rated G, you know. For peace and loving and forgiveness and because otherwise L will confiscate my chocolate.”

 

L, who had been eying their play from the couch where he was enjoying a cup of sugar (with a drop of tea to keep Watari from getting on his case), a bowl of pudding, and the debate between Light and Beyond, frowned. “Mello,” he called, “I appreciate the effort of keeping this particular episode child-friendly, but I would really like to keep even the, ah, sarcastic _people_ out of this house for today.”

 

Mello glanced at the snowfall behind the living-room window and grasped Sephiroth even tighter. “Looks cold. We're not going, are we, Sephy?” He smirked at the detective. “And I don't see _you_ going out there, either.”

 

L sighed. “Light-kun has ruined my orphans,” he complained.

 

The younger man blinked, interrupted in the middle of his explanation, with his index finger pointing up. “I have?”

 

“You have made them think of me as a human being,” L evaluated, pouting. “Now they don't even hesitate to imply that I'm a, quote, 'sarcastic bitch'.”

 

“That would be,” Beyond quipped dryly, leaning to the side to see L better from his place on the other side of Light, “because you _are._ ”

 

L glowered at him. “Takes one to know one.”

 

“ _Very_ mature, L.”

 

“You know,” Light said in a slightly helpless voice, “when L told me that you're not exactly on the best possible terms with each other... I imagined I'd have to, I don't know, keep one of you sedated or something to prevent bloodshed, but this... Next you're going to start sticking out your tongu-- _just like that_! L, I saw that!”

 

The top three detectives in the modern world stopped in the middle of demonstrating how much of a grown-up he was, blinked at his suspect-boyfriend and said, “What? He started it.”

 

Light closed his eyes and sighed. “Oh, I give up.”

 

\---

 

Considering the professions of the people present – a world-class detective, a serial killer, a mass-murderer (who had, until a few hours ago, believed he had finished the aforementioned serial killer among his other victims), a model-slash-mass-murderer and an inventor who had raised two quarters of them – and adding that to the fact that there was a person called Mello in the house, L figured his Christmas Day had been amazingly peaceful.

 

Apart from the gingerbread cookie war Mello and Matt had started (which had ended very quickly when L had announced that every single cookie caught flying would be considered abandoned by the thrower and taken in as the property of the detective; the kids had worked _hard_ for those cookies and they weren't going to take the risk that they would all end up in L's bottomless stomach), things had flowed rather smoothly from opening the presents (L was still congratulating himself for managing to conjure up a present for Beyond in the thirty minutes before he had arrived; the man's face had been priceless) to singing together (L had refused) and dining together (or, L supposed, desserting together).

 

To put the icing on top of his sugary Christmas dinner, L figured an actual dessert was in order, and while the children settled to play with their new toys as they waited for the Christmas service to begin, he wandered to the kitchen on the lookout for a poor lost piece of cake that wouldn't mind having company.

 

“A penny for your thoughts, L?”

 

“A _kiss_ for your thoughts, L?”

 

“Eugh, he doesn't want your slimy tongue down his throat...”

 

“More than your pennies, anyway. Besides, you don't look like you even have one.”

 

His two murdering shadows for the day had apparently trailed after him like lost puppies. Couldn't they do _anything_ on their own?

 

Blinking and frowning, L emerged from the fridge with a piece of caramel cake. “Since it's Christmas, I'll give you the answer for free, so please quit trying to bribe me. I'm currently thinking about things of extreme importance: global warming, the amount of crimes committed every Christmas Day, quantum physics, tracking down, confining and interrogating Father Christmas for breaking into apartments through the chimney, uninvited, and routinely stealing cookies and sherry, the probability of Mary having been a virgin mother, and cake. Mostly cake.”

 

Light and Beyond looked slightly overwhelmed.

 

Slowly and carefully, L cut a small piece of the cake, put it into his mouth and almost closed his eyes in a moment of ecstasy at the pure bliss of the sugary goodness. “Almost exclusively cake,” he had to admit.

 

The look in Beyond's only visible eye was a strange mixture of amusement, respect and fondness, as though he were admiring how delightfully crazy his hero could be. Shaking his head slightly and heading, after a moment's hesitation, straight to the closet Watari had hidden the jam jars in ten years ago, he said, “You know, I'm still kind of surprised you invited me here. Now that you did, I guess I'll behave, since it would be such bad form to start spilling blood when you've so kindly taken a homeless guy in... but I somehow doubt you were counting on my good manners.”

 

“I was, partly, and the jam is in the rightmost cupboard, on the top shelf, these days,” L responded calmly as he sat down to eat his cake. “Watari found out the kids had found his secret stash, so he had to move them elsewhere. Of course, everyone knows where it is, by now. As for why I invited you... I had several reasons.”

 

Both Light and Beyond looked with great interest as the detective looked up at them and lifted his index finger, half-accidentally forming his trademark “L” with said finger and his thumb. “One, as much as I may appear as a pessimist at times, I am very optimistic and wish to believe the best of people... or at least of people I care about. Being civil to Near was by no means necessary to get into the house, so after finding out he was alive and well I was fairly convinced that you were not out for blood today.”

 

He paused to eat a forkful of his cake; Light and Beyond stared at him in expectant irritation as he chewed.

 

“Two,” he said after swallowing, “since you were the one to put the presents under the tree, you had already been in the house – and, in fact, in my room. While we were sleeping.” He frowned a little. “I must say I don't appreciate that thought in the slightest, but I suppose I'll have to congratulate you for actually accomplishing this feat. In any case, you had the perfect chance to kill me or anyone else last night, but as far as I know, you refrained from doing any kind of mischief. Excluding, of course, swapping the notes on top of Mello and Matt's presents, but they got that sorted out just fine by themselves.”

 

To be exact, Matt was now blackmailing Mello into playing with him by threatening the life of his precious chocolate, and Mello was holding Matt's new Final Fantasy game hostage to ensure his help in whatever devilry he had planned for the future.

 

Beyond blinked, innocent like a demon child. “I thought it was pretty funny.”

 

L simply offered him a wry little smile. “Three,” he said then, his smile widening ever-so-slightly, the corners of his lips twitching upwards, “I am most steadfast in my belief that nothing bad can happen while Watari is present.”

 

Beyond suddenly turned away at that, and L saw him put the jam jar down gently, as if afraid that he would drop it. Long ago, so long ago – in fact, after an extremely failed attempt to conquer the Old Applegate House – Quillsh Wammy had tucked two frightened children in their respective beds, stroked their equally messy mops of hair for a moment, left the lights on and promised to keep guard behind the door, all night long if necessary, because “There is no ghost or monster in this world or any other world I know of that can get past me.”

 

And no ghost or monster had ever managed to slip past him. Even now, at the age of twenty-five, the greatest detective in the world would sometimes sneak into his old friend's office while he was working, curl up in a chair somewhere behind him, and fall asleep for a few peaceful hours, simply because the safest place in the world was behind Watari's back.

 

And Beyond knew it too, no matter how hard he had striven to forget.

 

\---

 

Sensing the fragility of the moment, Light had silently gotten up and left the room, an unfamiliar burning behind his eyes making him wonder if he was coming down with something.

 

All this snow couldn't be good for his health. Yes, that had to be it.

 

But at the same time, for the first time since leaving home for his confinement with L, Light kind of missed his family.

 

“Hey, Light,” someone said softly right next to him, startling him out of his reverie. “Why so sad?”

 

Light blinked back to this reality to see Matt eying him, aqua eyes kind behind the stupid goggles and a small smile on his lips. Light waited for a snide add-on, but the ever-present Mello turned out to be, well, not present.

 

It was just a sad, lonely Light and a kind, understanding Matt.

 

And heavens, Light was desperate for someone to talk to – preferably without running the risk of being accused of murder (which he had, admittedly, committed...) or of attempting to seduce L against his will (which was _kind_ of true because he _kind_ of liked it when the detective put up a little token resistance, but he had absolutely no intention to ever actually force to man to do anything).

 

Clearing his throat, once, then twice, and looking for a way to put his thoughts into words – it was now or never, Mello was never going to give him a chance like this again – Light finally managed, “Take off those stupid goggles or I can't speak seriously to you.”

 

Matt's eyebrows hid somewhere under his bangs at the unexpected reply, and Light had to admit he was quite amazed as well. He had been about to spill his heart to the boy, where the hell had the goggles come from?

 

Then, however, Matt slowly raised his hands and lowered said stupid goggles to hang from around his neck; he looked like he wasn't all that sure this was going to make any difference but was willing to give it a try, anyway.

 

And that, Light supposed, was in many ways so much more than he deserved.

 

“I think Mello already gave you the L Talk,” Matt ventured, clearly thinking back at the gingerbread cookie baking session.

 

Light nodded immediately; you could definitely say so.

 

“And I guess Near did too.”

 

This time, Light hesitated for a moment – but he supposed that his conversation with the white-haired kid in the Applegate House and later, when the boy had showed him the Light finger puppet, counted as the Talk. In a very Near way.

 

Or Far.

 

“So it's my turn, now,” Matt sighed. “Man, I'm so awkward with these things... Well, since I have a feeling that Near already freaked the hell out of you and Mello already threatened to rip off your ears if you hurt him – or at least implied something similar – I don't have much left to say, anyway...”

 

Rip off his ears? There had certainly been no talk about ripping off his ears. He _liked_ his ears, dammit. They were such a nice shape, too.

 

If Mello's implied “ _Be nice to L and I won't turn you in as Kira_ ” translated into “ _Be nice to L or I'll rip off your ears_ ”, Light simply had one more reason to be really nice to L.

 

Not that he hadn't been intending to be, in any case.

 

And in his worry for his nicely-shaped ears, he had forgotten to listen to Matt. Damn, he was really falling ill…

 

“I'm sorry?” he had to ask, mentally berating himself for the momentary lapse.

 

“I didn't say anything,” the redhead replied amicably, grinning a little. “I was waiting for you to join me here in the material world so I could continue.”

 

He'd forgotten to listen so badly that he had failed to hear that there was nothing to hear. This was getting serious, and Light resolved that if this condition continued for more than 24 hours, he would have to head to the nearest hospital before it took a fatal turn...

 

His train of thought was interrupted when Matt sighed again and then said softly, “Anyway, since my terrorizing and creepy partners-in-crime already almost managed to scare you away, I guess it's up to me to say what they really meant to say: make our brother happy. And, of course... let him make you happy, too.”

 

Light stared, and stared some more, and then his eyes got a little misty and he had to stare at the wall behind the boy instead of his face. “I...” he began, and was shocked to find his voice failing him, “... I would... if... he...”

 

But Matt was smiling that understanding smile again, and he was saved from the indignity of trying to finish his sentence. “Don't worry,” the redhead assured him, reaching out to pat him awkwardly on the shoulder, “he'll understand soon. He can be a little thickheaded at times – for a genius – but he's not stupid, you know. He'll realize it soon enough.”

 

\---

 

With Light having sneaked off at some point during his conversation with Beyond, and Beyond having requested that he be left alone for a moment, L found himself completely alone for the first time in a long while.

 

Determined to enjoy the feeling for as long as it lasted, he took a deep breath, turned on his heels and started for the stairs to hide in his room for a moment of peace and quiet – and was promptly stopped by two small hands gripping his elbow.

 

“Merry Christmas, Ryuzaki!”

 

… Murderers and murderesses all around...

 

“Merry Christmas, Misa-san,” he sighed, resigned to his fate, and turned around.

 

To his surprise, Misa was standing there, holding out a thin package, wrapped in midnight blue paper decorated with silver stars and a silver ribbon.

 

“... For me, Misa-san?” he asked, suddenly ashamed that he hadn't even thought of getting her a present.

 

Her smile was wide, almost a bit too wide, as she nodded so that her pigtails bounced. “For you, Ryuzaki! It's really important – but you must promise you won't open it before you're alone in your room, and you must never show it to anyone, especially to me! You can show it to Light, though, if you want to. That's your choice.” Her smile faltered for a moment. “That's why I'm giving it to you – so you'd have a choice.”

 

L's heart skipped a beat. Could she be implying...?

 

“But I'm only giving it to you because I know you have a good heart!” Misa declared, frowning imperiously at him and pursing her lips, reverting back to her “cute” mode as she always seemed to do when she was uncomfortable in a situation. “I'm trusting you to only use it to protect the people you love! And I...” She hesitated. “I understand that it's evidence that I'm the Second Kira, and I shouldn't hand it to you, but... something tells me you won't turn me in...”

 

“ _Two gods of Justice are guarding her._ ”

 

“ _I'm giving it to you so you'd have a choice._ ”

 

With no small amount of amazement, L realized that, knowing what Light was like, Misa had specifically decided to give the Note to him instead so he would have the means to defend himself against Kira if he wanted. She had allowed Light to manipulate her out of her own free will, capable of putting an end to it if she so wished, and she wanted L to be free to make the choice for himself as well.

 

… Oh well. L could hardly imprison and execute her for being Kira and clear Light out of suspicion simply because he happened to like Light better.

 

Carefully, with only his fingertips, L took the package from her and dangled it in front of his face for a moment of deliberation before making his decision. He looked down at the woman and smiled a little. “Your secret is safe with me for as long as I live,” he promised.

 

Misa broke out into yet another dazzling smile and hugged his midriff briefly (practically paralyzing him for a moment). Then she stepped back from him, spun around on her tiptoes and dashed off in a flash of black and purple lace and satin, calling over her shoulder, “Remember, you can never show it to me again! It's yours now until you give it away or die. I give it up!”

 

Right after the last words, the girl stopped suddenly, and L watched with fascination as she stood for a moment, looking at the walls around her as if momentarily confused about where she was and why she was there. Then she glanced over her shoulder, noticed L, and her expression brightened as her subconscious supplied her with a plausible explanation with the Death Note omitted.

 

“Come on, Ryuzaki! Why are you moping here all alone? Let's go to the living-room – Christmas is all about spending time with your friends and family!”

 

Letting out the breath he hadn't realized he had been holding, L offered her a little smile and nodded, feeling oddly empty as she whirled around and was gone again. Misa Amane, the Second Kira, was as good as untouchable to him, now – there was no way he could convict her while she had no memories of her crimes.

 

He had just let one of the most dangerous criminals and serial killers in the world off the hook.

 

“Oh my,” he murmured softly to himself, “what have you done to me, Light-kun?”

 

“That,” a low voice almost startled him, “is exactly what I'd like to know, too.”

 

L sighed. “Listening in on my monologues again, Near?”

 

“It's hardly my fault you have yet to kick your habit of talking to yourself. I couldn't help hearing.” Near stepped in front of him, giving the package in his hands a curious glance that told L the boy had heard a part of his conversation with Misa and was now itching to find out what it was all about.

 

“Don't ask,” L instructed him gently. “For this once, let it go.” He considered for a moment, then added the magic word. “Please.”

 

The boy's gray, expressionless eyes gave him a long, searching look before finally turning away as if silently agreeing to not think of the package anymore. “L... you do know that you're not expected to keep everything to yourself, don't you? I know you detest asking anyone for help, but sometimes even you need help – even if you can do everything yourself, it doesn’t mean that you have to. And even if you want to, it helps to have someone around, simply to share the burden.”

 

Light could share the burden, L found himself thinking even through his amazement at Near talking this way. Light – Light he could allow to help him. Light was an _equal_. Light understood.

 

“What Ghostie here is trying to say,” another voice joined their conversation, “is get off your high horse, L. We worship the ground you walk on, but that's just 'cause you're so awesome. It doesn't make you any less mortal. You're human, not a damn letter on the screen, so quit being so damn proud.”

 

L was speechless. Mello would have never talked to him like that before he met Light! The boy had really managed to turn everyone against him! Stunned, not quite knowing how to react, he turned slowly to look at the blond; Mello was leaning against the wall with his arms folded across his chest, legs crossed at ankles, looking determinedly away.

 

“It's okay, L,” he said, and it sounded to L as if he had to force the words out because 15-year-old boys, especially badass guys like Mello, just didn't _say_ things like this, “you're just in love.”

 

In love.

 

In love.

 

How was that _okay_?! It was _not_ okay, and L was ridiculously furious at Mello for voicing it, because now that it had been said, there was no denying it – he was falling, falling so hard, falling for his suspect – no, falling for the man he _knew_ had killed, and he couldn't bring himself to care at all.

 

It was not okay in the slightest. And he had been so careful to not even entertain the idea, had gone to such lengths to deny that he had ever felt anything but respect and friendship towards Light, and now stupid, insensitive Mello had gone and ruined it all!

 

Feeling like drowning, fighting for breath, L gripped his head between his hands, the Death Note trapped against his side under his arm, eyes wide and unfocused as he desperately tried to keep his thoughts from escaping and running wild now that Mello had set them free. But those words had set the wheels turning in his head, in his mind, in his _heart_ , and suddenly L could not find a single reason for why loving Light had seemed like such a bad idea.

 

And maybe, just _maybe,_ stupid, insensitive Mello was right, this time, maybe it was okay after all.

 

“Come,” Near said after a while, hooking his arms around his elbow and proceeding to drag him towards the living-room. L felt Mello take his other arm and, his mind still reeling from the impact of the realization he had just had, he let the two lead him.

 

“What's going on?” Light's confused voice startled him back to reality, and looking up he saw that they were once again in the living-room, standing next to the Christmas tree, Near and Mello still holding his arms as if to keep him in place. Light was, apparently, being led by Matt, and for some reason every single person in the room was looking at them.

 

Yes, what was going on?

 

Near cleared his throat. “We thought it was about time to tell you -”

 

“That Mello approves!” Mello yelled, shoving his hands between the two detectives and giving them a thumbs-up and a wide grin.

 

Near's expression was vaguely annoyed and at the same time slightly amused. “We all do,” he said, sounding like he was telling so to Mello as much as to L and Light.

 

Matt grinned and gave Light a friendly little shove. “And,” he added, glancing meaningfully at the ceiling, “you may kiss the detective.”

 

Simultaneously, L and Light looked up as well, and were hardly surprised to see a mistletoe hanging from the small chandelier above them.

 

Right above them.

 

Their gazes had barely even met before Mello got impatient, grabbed L by his shoulders, and quite unceremoniously pushed him into Light's arms; Matt, quick to catch on Mello's actions, caught Light before he could stumble back and pushed him back.

 

“Come on,” the blond whined, “we want a public kiss to make it official! We're tired of you two sneaking around each other. Why can't you just be happy together already?”

 

No, this was bad! _Everyone_ was looking at them! L looked up straight into Light's eyes just in time to see the surprise give way to determination, and expected to feel the younger man's lips on his at any moment – but he did not, and suddenly L realized, much to his horror, that the decision had been given to him. He knew, without being told so, that whatever he decided now would have a dramatic effect on their relationship, and Light, that little bastard, had chosen just this very moment to actually give him a choice.

 

The gazes on them were expectant, and for a moment L panicked. Then his eyes met Beyond's over Light's shoulder; the other man was reclining on the couch, once again holding his old, battered copy of _The_ _Three Musketeers_ , eying him with a strange look on his face. It seemed to L that his gaze lingered somewhere above his head for a moment before meeting his eyes again and giving him the slightest nod, accompanied by a crooked little grin.

 

L was not sure why, but that little gesture was what encouraged him to straighten his back, reach up and kiss Light on the lips in front of everyone; the younger man had apparently been waiting for him to act, for he answered the kiss immediately, wrapping L in a tight embrace and cupping the back of his head to gain better access to his mouth. The slight trembling of his hands and the strength with which he gripped him were enough to tell L that for a moment, Light had been afraid he would pull away.

 

And then, because the idea seemed to occur to them at the same time, as if decided in a telepathic conversation, they suddenly stepped to the side – so suddenly that Mello and Matt, both in stunned amazement and triumph, having lost the support they had provided, stumbled into each others' arms.

 

Which, naturally, left them standing under the mistletoe, looking more than just a little dumbstruck, Near looking incredibly smug for whatever reason, and L and Light looking at them in mock-surprise.

 

“My, my,” L murmured, raising his thumb to his lips and smiling a little. “I had no idea you two were in such a rush to give it a try as well.”

 

“I'm afraid,” Light continued with a grin, “that those standing under a mistletoe are supposed to kiss.”

 

Matt and Mello, having caught a hold of each other to avoid falling, stood paralyzed, staring at the detective duo in disbelief; Matt's face almost matched his hair, while Mello had gone whiter than Near.

 

Everyone in the room prepared to dive for safety, in case one of them would explode.

 

Everyone, except -

 

“Not so brave now, are we,” Beyond snickered, turning back to his book as if this was no longer amusing to him.

 

Mello flushed red, then paled again, and, in a single swift movement he spun Matt around, caught his face between his hands and pressed their mouths together for a short moment in an extremely awkward kiss.

 

Light beamed, Misa squealed in delight, L was torn between being horrified and feeling proud, Near looked like he had just won a bet, and Beyond had immediately looked up from his book, apparently interested after all. The other children were applauding, save for a few little boys who seemed to be of the opinion that kissing was the grossest thing to occur between two human beings, like, _ever_.

 

Matt looked like was about to faint; Mello, on the other hand, let him go, straightened and put his hands on his hips to strike an impressive pose as if to dare anyone to tell him to do it again.

 

L felt Light take his hand in his own, and before he knew it his own head had rested itself – on its own accord, he could have sworn! - on Light's shoulder. Though still thoroughly shaken by his unusually emotionally active night, for now he felt a sense of peace and serenity he had never really felt before.

 

So this was what it felt like to belong somewhere.

 

\---

 

The old church near the orphanage had been beautifully renovated. Light watched with mixed feelings as the children filed in one after another, looking curiously around as they sat on the pews.

 

“So,” he finally said, awkward in the Christian setting with his own Japanese upbringing, “is Watari very religious?”

 

L nodded but smiled reassuringly. “He does appreciate other religions as well, though – it's more that he grew up Christian. When I was little, and this church was still in use, we were allowed to choose for ourselves whether to come or not, and even if we did he never demanded anything but that we behaved ourselves here. He also makes sure that the children from different ethnic or religious backgrounds have the chance to practice their customs if they so wish.”

 

Light nodded, feeling slightly relieved that his image of Watari as the ultimate good man, a man not given to discriminating between people based on their beliefs, could remain untouched, and blinked as he saw Mello stride the aisle with long steps, taking a place in the front row. Matt, as usual, followed him, though more slowly.

 

“Mello's actually Catholic,” L informed him, “but he seems to think that a Protestant church is better than no church at all. Matt, as far as I know, is just doing what Mello wants.”

 

“Mello's religious?” Light asked incredulously.

 

“Perhaps he thinks that if he's on good terms with God, he can get away with a few obscenities.” L smirked slightly as he said that, but not out of disrespect towards Mello's faith. “We all need something. Mello has God, Matt has Mello. Near has atheism. You and I, we have...”

 

“... Each other?” Light was quick to supply hopefully.

 

The detective paused and smiled a little. “I was going to say 'justice', but... yes,” he confirmed, “we have each other and ourselves to believe in.”

 

Light's eyes caught the lone shadow of a fellow killer looming in the balcony circling the church hall, arms resting on the wooden railing and face turned towards the painted glass window behind the altar. “What about him?” he asked quietly, nudging L to look at his copycat.

 

L turned, and a sad little smile played on his lips at the sight of the downcast serial killer. “I wish I knew,” he replied in a low voice. “The last time this church has been used was for his friend's funeral. The place probably brings up memories.”

 

The detective looked slightly miserable himself; Light took his hand in his own, and the older man's lips twitched ever-so-slightly upwards. The children – excluding those who had stayed at the house – had settled on their places, and the service seemed to be about to begin.

 

“Are we going in?” Light asked after a moment of silence, with a drop of reluctance. He wasn’t sure where the reluctance stemmed from. Perhaps it was that he felt uncomfortable, having thought of himself as an atheist for years; perhaps it was just unsettling after following Buddhist and Shinto customs out of tradition for most of his young life.

 

Perhaps it was because he felt he couldn’t step into a church after claiming to be God.

 

L looked at him and, wordlessly, turned around, pulling him along and out of the front doors.

 

“I’ll take that as a no,” Light mused, admitting to himself that he felt a touch of relief.

 

“We have each other, right?” L reminded him, and Light had to grin at that. “What would we need yet another God for? We have each other.” The raven-haired man glanced at the younger man over his shoulder with a small ghost of a smile. “Besides, there's someone I would like you to meet.”

 

Lifting a brow, Light allowed the man to lead him towards the small graveyard behind the church. He had assumed the man had no family at all, and now all of a sudden important family members – however biologically unrelated to him – were sprouting up wherever they walked.

 

L took him to a stone cross at the corner of the graveyard that was the farthest from the church, and stopped before it. Curiously, Light tried to peer at the name carved into the aging stone, but couldn't make it out before L spoke.

 

“Merry Christmas, Mother,” the detective said quietly. “Merry Christmas, Father.”

 

Light's heart skipped a beat. L had said his mother had been Watari's goddaughter – it was kind of logical that his parents should be buried here...

 

“This is Light Yagami,” L continued, pulling Light closer by his hand; as if he had just brought the younger man home for the first time and had to drag him into the living-room to greet his parents. “He's my... very first real friend. We work on cases together and attend the classes at the To-oh University together. He plays tennis, too. I... don't think I told you I entered the To-oh University, did I? ... I think I'm going to stay there and finish at least the first degree. It would be nice to have an official degree on something...”

 

Light could almost see the living-room around them, L's mother smiling at them, obviously knowing that her son's decision to stay at the University was only so that he could remain close to Light, and his father nodding approvingly at his plans to finish his official education, L himself shuffling his feet and stealing glances at his parents through his bangs, his hand warm and fragile in Light's.

 

Suddenly he was struck with an aching wish that it could really happen, that he could really meet L's parents and have their acceptance. He supposed the weight of having no parents was a hundred times heavier on L's narrow shoulders.

 

“Light-kun is extremely intelligent,” L was telling his parents in a very soft voice. “He always understands what I mean without me having to explain it – almost before I even voice my thoughts. His father is a police chief... He has helped me sleep better, too.”

 

_This is my very first boyfriend. He understands me so well, he's really smart and he comes from a good family. He even helps me kick my bad habits. Don't you like him, too? Don't you really want him in the family, as well?_

 

Again with the burning behind the eyes thing. He was really going to have to find a hospital soon.

 

“So,” L said slowly after a moment of silence, “I wanted to tell you... not to worry about me. Light-kun is... going to look after me from now on.”

 

And suddenly the burning was no longer _behind_ the eyes but streaming down his face; with a soft sigh, Light wrapped his arms around his thin lover-rival-friend- _soulmate_ and leaned closer to breathe in his scent before turning to look at the tomb stone over the other man's shoulder.

 

“Mr. and Mrs. Lawliet,” he said, coughed to clear the tremor from his voice and continued, “I hope... you give me your blessing in guarding L's steps through the rest of his life... and in attempting to make it as happy as possible. L...”

 

He took a hold of the detective's shoulders and turned him to face him. “This... is probably a bad moment, but... I will not give up my power as Kira. My spirit and mindset have been altered so heavily that I would never be just Light Yagami again, and I will much rather be Light and Kira, with all my regrets, all my accomplishments, and above all with all my memories with you.”

 

L looked at him, and struck by a momentary inspiration, Light knelt in the snow before the detective and took his hands in his own.

 

“I will also keep the Death Note where I can reach it whenever I need to, because I will need that power to protect you and our orphans. But... would you, and could you, perhaps, consider... combining Kira and L's powers?”

 

L blinked slowly. “What, as in, 'Quit killing, or I'll set Kira on you'?”

 

He could be so insensitive sometimes.

 

But even while mourning for the solemnity of the moment that had been so ruthlessly shattered by the detective, Light couldn't help but grin a little at that.

 

“Yeah,” he chuckled, still on his knees in the snow, still holding L's hands, “pretty much like that. And then, you know, then we could move onto that studying together thing you just mentioned.”

 

L was silent for a while, simply looking at him with those inscrutable eyes of his, and Light had to fight to not hide whatever real emotion showed in his own eyes. Then, when Light's knees had already started to feel deep-frozen, the detective's lips twitched into that quirky little justice-will-prevail smile again, and he pulled the younger man up by his hands.

 

“I'm still going to call you Kira when I'm mad at you,” he murmured before pressing his lips softly against Light's.

 

Light laughed into the kiss and pulled the man as close as possible. “I hope that counts as a yes.”

 

L smiled against his lips.

 

The air was cold and clear, the frost biting at Light's cheeks with more strength than he was used to; he glanced up, and his breath hitched. The sky was brilliant! The stars were incredibly bright – so much brighter than he, having grown in Tokyo, had ever seen, ever even _imagined_ – like diamond dust sprinkled all over deep blue velvet, velvet that was the color of L's eyes.

 

“Light-kun?” L whispered, and he realized he had simply stood staring at the sight for a while.

 

“Have you -” The words caught in his throat, and he shook his head. “Look up, L.”

 

L eyed him for a moment, head tilted and expression inscrutable. “I grew up doing just that,” he said. “I spent every cold night when I couldn't sleep doing that, sitting on my bed, looking at the stars through the window...”

 

“No,” Light interrupted him, taking his face between his glove-clad hands and turning it towards the starry sky. “Look up, now. Look at what we're fighting for. Look at how beautiful this world can be.”

 

L looked up, and Light watched, transfixed, how his eyes reflected the sky above them.

 

With dry lips, he leaned closer, feeling the raven-black hair brush against his skin as he put his mouth near the other man's ear and whispered, “Forget your cases, forget money and crime and misery and forget being a detective, okay? Just be L, and I'll be just Light, and this moment will remain in our memory for as long as we live. There's no one around, L, just the two of us and this beautiful world, and it's all ours.”

 

“All ours,” L repeated softly, gazing at the sky with an almost dreamy look in his eyes.

 

“Yes, L,” Light breathed against his cheekbone, one hand buried in the black mass of hair, the other caressing the other side of the man's face, “a world of our own.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Every spirit builds itself a house; and beyond its house, a world; and beyond its world, a heaven. Know then, that the world exists for you."
> 
> \- Ralph Waldo Emerson
> 
>  
> 
> In the loving memory of my Grandpa (1937-2010).


	16. 'Til the Clock Strikes Twelve

Epilogue

**'Til the Clock Strikes Twelve**

_Ring-ring!_

 

Light awoke with a start at the sudden noise.

 

_Ring-ring_!

 

“Dammit,” he murmured, reaching blindly for his cell-phone, when a hand suddenly rested gently on his and a low chuckle reached his ears.

 

“I'm afraid that's mine,” L murmured before apparently bringing the phone to his ear and answering the call.

 

Happy that he wasn't required to have an intelligent conversation with anyone after all, and doubly happy that L had decided to leave his hand where it lay, stroking his skin slowly with his thumb, Light leaned back into his pillow and drew the covers up to his chin. He closed his eyes for a moment and allowed his mind a few more minutes of rest before consciousness started to sneak back on him and it became clear that he wouldn't be able to fall asleep again. It had been dark while his eyes had been open, so it was still night... And L was up anyway, but well, big surprise there.

 

“Yes, he is. You woke him up,” the detective was saying at the moment. Ah, so it was someone he knew – or rather, someone who knew of their relationship because they suspected that Light was present – and not a faceless police chief from this or that different time zone. That narrowed it down significantly because in addition to the residents of Wammy's House, only Light's family and the Task Force had been let in on the secret, and it had taken months before they had been comfortable with telling even them.

 

“Is it really wise of you to call me?” L was asking now. “I am a detective, you know. No, I'm not investigating you at the moment, but... you never know when I'm struck by the whim, do you? I could be tracking your call right now.”

 

Okay, that narrowed it down to Beyond Birthday. Feeling the final remnants of sleep slip from him, Light pulled himself up and leaned against L's back, resting his chin on the man's shoulder to be able to hear the other end of the conversation.

 

“... _you're not, are you_?” the man was saying at the moment, all smug and amused.

 

“Well, no,” L replied, “because Light-kun is adamant that I try this vacation thing because it's New Year's Eve, which means I'm not allowed to work. I have been up all night trying to entertain myself while he insists on engaging in excessive sleep because apparently it's all very important to him.”

And Beyond had _nothing_ on the smug-and-amused grin that spread on Light's face at that.

 

Or on the butterflies that decided to throw a party in his stomach, because L was doing things just because they were important to Light.

 

Light supposed it said something about how much he'd changed that he considered it a far greater victory than gaining control over all the world as Kira would have ever been.

 

“ _L, you're getting disgustingly cute. I'm going to have to start some mayhem to keep you from getting all soft and sappy._ ”

 

“Throwing temper-tantrums for attention always was your thing,” L was quick to quip back.

 

“ _Hey, now_.” Beyond faked a sniffle. “ _There's no need to be unkind. I merely called to wish you a happy new year_.”

“The year won't change for another nine hours, Beyond.”

 

“ _I know, I know the clock. You taught me. It's just that by midnight I'll already be in hiding, and_ then _I'll be worrying about you tracking my calls. I offered to take Mello with me, actually, train him personally, since you have refused._ ”

 

And holy crap, that was a scary idea – those two could form a terrorist organization on their own, and if they had Matt as their tech support...

 

L didn't seem worried, however. “Indeed? And what happened?”

 

Beyond sighed as though absolutely devastated. “ _Nothing. Mello had already started packing, but Matty-boy suddenly discovered his spine and took this really stubborn expression and told Mello that_ he _wasn't going anywhere. Mello pouted and screamed and sulked and stomped around, but in the end, he just unpacked and told me no._ ”

 

L smirked, and Light suddenly realized that _his_ smug-and-amused totally paled next to L's. “Please take notice of my utter lack of surprise,” the detective said, because Beyond couldn't (probably, Light thought and glanced at the window nervously) possibly see the smirk.

 

“ _Lack of surprise noted. Glad to have these conversations with you, L, just us grown-ups._ ”

 

“The pleasure of behaving like a grown-up for you is all mine.”

 

“ _Quite the contrary, I enjoy this just as –_ ”

 

Light rolled his eyes. “Hey, night-creatures. The light of your days trying to catch some shut eye here.”

 

L's eyes flitted to him, and in the dark Light saw a small smile curl the detective's lips upwards. “Of course. Beyond, I'm afraid that we must continue our grown-up conversation some other time. Light-kun is worried he will not shine quite as bright tomorrow without his regular twelve hours of sleep.”

 

“I do not sleep twelve hours a night –”

 

“ _You're spoiling him rotten, but then again, I suppose he's already so rotten that it can't get worse. Wish him a happy new year for me, okay? And tell him to keep looking over his shoulder..._ ”

 

Light froze in the middle of glancing at the window and yes, over his shoulder, yet again. L chuckled. “I will. Happy new year, Beyond.”

 

\---

 

Nine hours later, they were out in the streets with what seemed millions of other people, and L was feeling a whole lot less confident. Light had insisted that they wear kimonos, and when Light got insistent, there was very little L could do about it.

 

“There they are!” a familiar voice squealed from afar. L found that he was no longer entirely sure whether to cringe or smile at the idea that the owner of that shrill voice had spotted them and was going to join their company soon.

 

Light seemed to have opted for smiling, so the detective conjured a hesitant smile to greet the approaching couple as well. Misa was dazzling in her black and purple kimono, with her hair up in a lazy bun that was designed to look like it had been done in three seconds instead of the actual three hours, and the tall, young man she was dragging along looked – to L's secret delight – like he would have preferred to wear something other than his black and white kimono. So he wasn't alone in his discomfort, after all. (To his slight dismay, the man still managed to look entirely too handsome, despite his obvious dislike of the attire.)

 

“Light-kun!” Misa exclaimed, leaving her boyfriend's hand to throw her arms around her ex. “I'm so happy you made it!” L blinked when the girl turned from the younger man, still amazed that she was now able to unglue herself from Light so quickly, and when the blonde's eyes turned to him, he found himself dreading that she would greet him with a ' _Hentai-san_!'

 

“Ryu-kun!” she squealed instead, lunging to wrap her arms around him as well. “You look gorgeous!”

 

_Ryu-kun_?

 

L's mind, which had been in the midst of preparations of a witty retort, drew a blank. So did his face, which apparently amused Light to no end. Misa's boyfriend chuckled at his expression as well.

 

“Hide-kuuuun~” she chanted, dashing back to the other man's side again, pulling and pushing him closer to the detectives. “I want you to meet two special someones! This is Light Yagami -”

 

“I've heard quite a lot about you,” Ryuga grinned as he reached out to shake Light's hand, then halted in the middle of the movement, and bowed instead. “Sorry, too much time abroad...”

 

Light looked down at his own hand, which had been half-raised as well. “The feeling is mutual, on both parts. Though I have heard more about you from my sister than Misa.”

 

Misa giggled evilly. L opened his mouth to say, ' _up by 0,3 percent_ ' but caught himself in time. “And Hide-kun, this one here is Light's friend from To-oh, Ryuzaki. But his real name is, and this is the good part...”

 

“Misa -” Light frowned, and L held his breath.

 

“- Hideki Ryuga as well!” the blonde exclaimed, throwing her arms up in the air. “Isn't that cool? It must be fate or something, that I met this guy with a name like that when I was trying to have a relationship with Light, even though I knew it was doomed!”

 

_She doesn't remember_. L's heart was pounding way too loudly, but the realization that Misa truly had no memories of her time as Kira – including seeing his real name at some point – helped him to calm down a little. Fate or something, indeed.

 

“Really?” Ryuga's eyebrows hid under his carefully arranged bangs. “I've never met anyone with the exact same name before!”

 

_I haven't either_ , L mused, forming a little smile at the younger man. “Well, with all your well-earned fame it seems to me that the name should be reserved exclusively to you,” he replied smoothly. Perhaps he had no actual social skills, but he was a master at pretending he did. “Which is why I go by Ryuzaki... People always looked so disappointed when I introduced myself.”

 

Ryuga smiled back at him. “I can't see why anyone would be disappointed by you,” he said, and L had a strange feeling that the man probably meant it too, in a friendly way with no ulterior motives. It was odd. Did people like that exist? Other than Matsuda, that is.

 

Light shifted next to him, a mixture of what looked a little like pride and a little like jealousy in his amber eyes. “It's good to see that you're taking care of Misa now,” he changed the topic smoothly. “I'm so glad that she's found someone who's truly worth her.”

 

The patented Hideki Ryuga Smile was aimed at Light, this time. “Thank you! Though I consider myself the lucky one here. I'm certainly not complaining, but I can't help but wonder what on Earth possessed you to let this jewel go.” He reached out and wrapped an arm gently around Misa's shoulders, bringing her close to his chest.

 

Misa blinked, looking up at him with wide eyes, before breaking into a brilliant smile. She didn't say anything, much to L's surprise – it seemed that the girl was too happy to get a word out of her mouth, and then again, her shining eyes said more than her words ever could have.

 

For the first time since they had met, L realized that at some point, he had started to genuinely like that girl. Seeing her so happy sent a strange, warm wave through his chest, and he found the feeling most curious.

 

Funny. It seemed that after all, it was Misa Amane and not Light Yagami that was his very first friend, since he couldn't exactly call Light a _friend_.

 

Light laughed suddenly, that warm, gentle laugh from before and in between Kira, the laugh that made L smile despite himself and his heart skip a beat. “Well, you see - it appears that we were, in the end, a bit too much alike,” he said, grinning and imitating Ryuga's gesture by slowly snaking his arm around L and pulling him flush against his side. “We were more into a Hideki Ryuga than each other.”

 

Ryuga's expression was priceless, Misa had the nerve to snigger, and L's face was decidedly warmer than before.

 

“Oh,” the pop star murmured, looking at the arm resting possessively around L's waist, blushing a little and then offering a slightly hesitant smile to show that he was more taken aback than disgusted. “You two... make a very cool couple.”

 

L had a sneaky feeling that he had been about to call them a _cute_ couple.

 

“Likewise,” Light returned with the utmost grace.

 

L finally recovered from the shock of coming out of the closet he had only just crawled into, and turned to shoot an irritated look at his...

 

Well.

 

Suspect, friend, nemesis, chain-mate and a bunch of other options were scratched over one after another, and finally he had no choice but to settle on _lover_. An equal.

 

A life-mate.

 

The irritation had apparently melted away somewhere between his eyes and Light's, because the brunet just grinned at him, so it hardly mattered, anyway.

 

“Light-kun's puns are still awful,” he muttered, looking at the space next to the younger man's chin rather than in those golden eyes.

 

“As you just mentioned, I'm still named Light,” the younger man replied blithely, “and because of that, I'm afraid, I will forever remain cursed in that area.”

 

L looked up suddenly, a wry little smile curling the corners of his lips. “Oh, but you _do_ know that there is only one way to truly break an evil curse, do you not?”

 

Light _blinked_.

 

The clock struck twelve, the spell was broken, carriages turned back into pumpkins, princesses into detectives and knights into murderers, but _it didn't have to be a fairytale to have a happy ending,_ and as a deafening, blinding field of fiery flowers exploded to fill the sky, the detective kissed the murderer to tell him that yes, in time the princess had indeed learned to love the knight -

 

… and that no, there was no way he would ever say it out loud.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Writing this story and now editing it has been a magnificent, cathartic journey for me, and I wish you can derive some enjoyment from it as well. (Despite the cultural fudge-up of this epilogue: I mixed some elements of the Japanese Summer Festival with my personal experiences of both Western and Japanese New Year’s celebrations. Sorry!) I wrote it through some of my worst experiences so far, working through them with humor and fluff, and finished it at the threshold of the happiness that has characterized my life since then.
> 
> As before, and ever after, I thank you, my readers, from the bottom of my heart. Each and every one of you is wonderful.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This story is my baby in so many ways. Originally started in December 2008, written with massive gaps between updates, and finished in December 2011, this fic has seen and, to a degree, reflected my most tumultuous years to date. I’m not proud of all of it, but I am proud of myself for finishing such a long, multi-chapter story in a foreign language, and it remains to this day my first and last finished multi-chapter story written in English. As of today, December 2016, eight years after I started this behemoth and five years after I finally wrapped it up, it still receives favorites on FF net almost every week, and even the occasional review. At 349 reviews, 331 follows and a staggering 724 favorites it’s still my most popular story ever, and I am absolutely humbled and grateful for such continued success.
> 
> As my more prolific writing years seem to be behind me for the moment, I’m returning to bask in my old victories. My English has improved a great deal since the beginning, and I have, for years now, been meaning to go back and edit the story, but kept putting that off because of the first few chapters, which I felt were more cringe-worthy than some of the later ones. I’ve mainly edited the language: misspelled words, grammar, awkward sentence structures and word choices, but the first two chapters have been partially rewritten. The changes are mostly small, and won’t affect the plot; the additions are there to make the existing plot more coherent, tie the chapters together a bit better, and bring it a little closer to canon. As much as I’d like to edit some things more, I have always believed that minor changes and corrections aside, stories should not be altered after being published. Thus, the changes won’t make the story something wholly new to read, but will, I hope, make it more pleasant to re-read should anyone wish to do that.
> 
> English is still not my first language. Also, despite most of the events taking place in the UK, I have long since settled on AmE, and deemed it better to not try and switch for this. I still use the occasional British phrase and word, though, but assume that it’s generally because I don’t always realize that it’s only used in BrE.
> 
> A quick word about canon – I haven’t read DN in years, but I’m aware that my story is not entirely canon-compliant even if you disregard the blatant change from canonical mystery-thriller doom and gloom to my sugary, sarcastic brand of humor and fluff and accept that it goes AU after Yotsuba. I have done my best to fill in some of the biggest plot-holes a little later into the story, and tried to do so in the earlier chapters as well by a few small additions. 
> 
> One big hole remains, though: it is explicitly stated in the original Death Note that a Shinigami can’t reveal the name of a person to a human. I can’t recall if it was simply impossible, or if it would have killed the Shinigami, like when a Shinigami writes down a name for a human. Either way, I had completely forgotten about that when I started writing my story eight years ago, and as my explanation of how Light got L’s name was Rem revealing it to him, believing that it would enable Light to protect Misa from L, I hit a wall there. If telling Light L’s name would have resulted in Rem’s death, then I couldn’t in any way justify to myself why Rem would have done that when she could have ensured Misa’s safety far better by killing L for exactly the same price, as she did in canon. In the end, I decided to leave this particular plot-hole be. As I already went AU enough to make L a semi-regular resident of Wammy’s house and known to his successors (when in canon the kids were not familiar with L and only knew him as a position to aim for), I figured I could also scratch over one Death Note rule.
> 
> And speaking of canon-related issues, be warned that the characters will be slightly OC, although hopefully not unbearably so. I did my best to write them as in character as possible considering the change in genre and style. Despite the humorous, lighthearted nature of the fic, I wanted it to be as believable in the DN canon as possible, but of course, writing the characters completely IC and still managing a funny, sweet story with a happy ending would have been next to impossible, and sacrifices had to be made. I’d like to think that I’ve toned down some of the more serious characteristics (as well as murderous tendencies) and exaggerated the ones more suitable for the purposes of this fic rather than downright changed the characters. I hope you can still enjoy it!
> 
> Thus concludes my massive, hulking behemoth of an author’s note.


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